THE DOCTOR 


WILLIAM  LE  Q.UEXJX 


THE  DOCTOR  OF  PIMLICO 


Dm.  OF  CALIF-  LIBKARY,  LOS  AHGELES 


"Enid  Drew  Back  In  Terror" 

(The  Doctor  of  Pimlico) 


THE  DOCTOR 
OF  PIMLICO 

Being  the  Disclosure  of  a  Great  Crime 
BY  WILLIAM  LE  QUEUX 


FRONTISPIECE 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arrangement  with  The  Macaulay  Company 


COPTBIQHT.   1920, 

BT  THE  MACAULAY  COMPANY 


Printed  in  the  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEB  PAGE 

I.  IN  WHICH  CERTAIN  SUSPICIONS  ARE  EXCITED      .     .  9 

II.  THE  COMING  OF  A  STRANGER 21 

III.  INTRODUCES  DOCTOR  WEIRMARSH 82 

IV.  REVEALS  TEMPTATION 47 

V.  IN  WHICH  ENID  ORLEBAR  is  PUZZLED       ....  56 

VI.  BENEATH  THE  ELASTIC  BAND 66 

VII.  CONCERNING  THE  VELVET  HAND 78 

VIII.  PAUL  LE  PONTOIS 88 

IX.  THE  LITTLE  OLD  FRENCHWOMAN 97 

X.  IF  ANYONE  KNEW 107 

XI.  CONCERNS  THE  PAST 114 

XII.  REVEALS  A  CURIOUS  PROBLEM 125 

XIII.  THE  MYSTERIOUS  MR.  MALTWOOD 134 

XIV.  WHAT  CONFESSION  WOULD  MEAN 145 

XV.  THREE  GENTLEMEN  FROM  PARIS 157 

XVI.  THE  ORDERS  OF  His  EXCELLENCY 168 

XVII.  WALTER  GIVES  WARNING 177 

XVIII.  THE  ACCUSERS 187 

XIX.  IN  WHICH  A  TRUTH  is  HIDDEN 199 

XX.  IN  WHICH  A  TRUTH  is  TOLD 207 

XXI.  THE  WIDENED  BREACH    .           217 

XXII.  CONCERNING  THE  BELLAIRS  AFFAIR 227 

XXIII.  THE  SILENCE  OF  THE  MAN  BARKER 234 

XXIV.  WHAT  THE  DEAD  MAN  LEFT 245 

XXV.  AT  THE  CAFE  DE  PARIS 255 

XXVI.  WHICH  is  "PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL"      .     .     .  265 

XXVII.  THE  RESULT  OF  INVESTIGATION 274 

XXVIH.  THE  SECRET  OF  THE  LONELY  HOUSE 285 

XXIX.  CONTAINS  SOME  STARTLING  STATEMENTS  ....  292 

XXX.  REVEALS  A  WOMAN'S  LOVE        303 

[XXXI.  IN  WHICH  SIR  HUGH  TELLS  HIS  STOBY     ....  810 

XXXII.  CONCLUSION 821 


THE    DOCTOR    OF    PIMLICO 

Being  the  Disclosure  of  a  Great  Crime 
CHAPTER  I 

IN  WHICH  CERTAIN  SUSPICIONS  AEE  EXCITED 

A  GREY,  sunless  morning  on  the  Firth  of  Tay. 

Across  a  wide,  sandy  waste  stretching  away 
to  the  misty  sea  at  Budden,  four  men  were  walk- 
ing. Two  wore  uniform — one  an  alert,  grey- 
haired  general,  sharp  and  brusque  in  manner, 
with  many  war  ribbons  across  his  tunic;  the 
other  a  tall,  thin-faced  staff  captain,  who  wore 
the  tartan  of  the  Gordon  Highlanders.  With 
them  were  two  civilians,  both  in  rough  shooting- 
jackets  and  breeches,  one  about  forty-five,  the 
other  a  few  years  his  junior. 

"Can  you  see  them,  Fellowes?"  asked  the 
general  of  the  long-legged  captain,  scanning  the 
distant  horizon  with  those  sharp  grey  eyes  which 
had  carried  him  safely  through  many  campaigns. 

"  No,  sir,"  replied  the  captain,  who  was 
carrying  the  other's  mackintosh.  "  I  fancy  they 

9 


io  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

must  be  farther  over  to  the  left,  behind  those 
low  mounds  yonder." 

"  Haven't  brought  their  battery  into  position 
yet,  I  suppose,"  snapped  the  old  officer,  as  he 
swung  along  with  the  two  civilians  beside  him. 

Fred  Tredennick,  the  taller  of  the  two  civil- 
ians, walked  with  a  gait  decidedly  military,  for, 
indeed,  he  was  a  retired  major,  and  as  the  gen- 
eral had  made  a  tour  of  inspection  of  the  camp 
prior  to  walking  towards  where  the  mountain 
battery  was  manoeuvring,  he  had  been  chatting 
with  him  upon  technical  matters. 

"  I  thought  you'd  like  to  see  this  mountain 
battery,  Fetherston,"  exclaimed  the  general, 
addressing  the  other  civilian.  '  We  have  lots  of 
them  on  the  Indian  frontier,  of  course,  and  there 
were  many  of  ours  in  Italy  and  Serbia." 

"I'm  delighted  to  come  with  you  on  this 
tour  of  inspection,  General.  As  you  know,  I'm 
keenly  interested  in  military  affairs — and  espe- 
cially in  the  reorganisation  of  the  Army  after 
the  war,"  replied  Walter  Fetherston,  a  dark, 
well-set-up  man  of  forty,  with  a  round,  merry 
face  and  a  pair  of  eyes  which,  behind  their  gold 
pince-nez,  showed  a  good-humoured  twinkle. 

Of  the  four  men,  General  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe 
and  Walter  Fetherston  were,  perhaps,  equally 
distinguished.  The  former,  as  all  the  world 


Certain  Suspicions  are  Excited      IB 

knows,  had  had  a  brilliant  career  in  Afghanis- 
tan, in  Egypt,  Burmah,  Tirah,  the  Transvaal, 
and  in  France,  and  now  held  an  appointment  as 
inspector  of  artillery. 

The  latter  was  a  man  of  entirely  different 
stamp.  As  he  spoke  he  gesticulated  slightly,  and 
no  second  glance  was  needed  to  realise  that  he 
was  a  thorough-going  cosmopolitan. 

By  many  years  of  life  on  the  Continent  he 
had  acquired  a  half-foreign  appearance.  Indeed, 
a  keen  observer  would  probably  have  noticed 
that  his  clothes  had  been  cut  by  a  foreign  tailor, 
and  that  his  boots,  long,  narrow  and  rather 
square-toed,  bore  the  stamp  of  the  Italian  boot- 
maker. When  he  made  any  humorous  remark 
he  had  the  habit  of  slightly  closing  the  left  eye 
in  order  to  emphasise  it,  while  he  usually  walked 
with  his  left  hand  behind  his  back,  and  was 
hardly  ever  seen  without  a  .cigarette.  Those 
cigarettes  were  one  of  his  idiosyncrasies.  They 
were  delicious,  of  a  brand  unobtainable  by  the 
public,  and  made  from  tobacco  grown  in  one  of 
the  Balkan  States.  With  them  he  had,  both  be- 
fore the  war  and  after,  been  constantly  supplied 
by  a  certain  European  sovereign  whose  personal 
friend  he  was.  They  bore  the  royal  crown  and 
cipher,  but  even  to  his  most  intimate  acquain- 
tance Walter  Fetherston  had  never  betraye(J 


12  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  reason  why  he  was  the  recipient  of  so  many 
favours  from  the  monarch  in  question. 

Easy-going  to  a  degree,  full  of  open-hearted 
bonhomie,  possessing  an  unruffled  temper,  and 
apparently  without  a  single  care  in  all  the  world, 
he  seldom,  if  ever,  spoke  of  himself.  He  never 
mentioned  either  his  own  doings  or  his  friends'. 
He  was  essentially  a  mysterious  man — a  man  of 
moods  and  of  strong  prejudices. 

More  than  one  person  who  had  met  him  cas- 
ually had  hinted  that  his  substantial  income  was 
derived  from  sources  that  would  not  bear  in- 
vestigation— that  he  was  mixed  up  with  certain 
financial  adventurers.  Others  declared  that  he 
was  possessed  of  a  considerable  fortune  that  had 
been  left  him  by  an  uncle  who  had  been  a  dealer 
in  precious  stones  in  Hatton  Garden.  The 
truth  was,  however,  that  Walter  Fetherston  was 
a  writer  of  popular  novels,  and  from  their  sale 
alone  he  derived  a  handsome  income. 

The  mystery  stories  of  Walter  Fetherston 
were  world-famous.  Wherever  the  English 
language  was  spoken  this  shrewd-eyed,  smiling 
man's  books  were  read,  while  translations  of 
them  appeared  as  fewlletons  in  various  lan- 
guages in  the  principal  Continental  journals. 
One  could  scarcely  take  up  an  English  news- 
paper without  seeing  mention  of  his  name,  for 


Certain  Suspicions  are  Excited      13 

he  was  one  of  the  most  popular  authors  of  the 
day. 

It  is  a  generally  accepted  axiom  that  a  public 
man  cannot  afford  to  be  modest  in  these  go-ahead 
days  of  "  boom."  Yet  Fetherston  was  one  of 
the  most  retiring  of  men.  English  society  had 
tried  in  vain  to  allure  him — he  courted  no  per- 
sonal popularity.  Beyond  his  quiet-spoken 
literary  agent,  who  arranged  his  affairs  and  took 
financial  responsibility  from  his  shoulders,  his 
publishers,  and  perhaps  half  a  dozen  intimate 
friends,  he  was  scarcely  recognised  in  his  true 
character.  Indeed,  his  whereabouts  were  seldom 
known  save  to  his  agent  and  his  only  brother, 
so  elusive  was  he  and  so  careful  to  establish  a 
second  self. 

He  had  never  married.  It  was  whispered 
that  he  had  once  had  a  serious  affair  of  the  heart 
abroad.  But  that  was  a  matter  of  long  ago. 

Shoals  of  invitations  arrived  at  his  London 
clubs  each  season,  but  they  usually  reached  him 
in  some  out-of-the-world  corner  of  Europe,  and 
he  would  read  them  with  a  smile  and  cast  them 
to  the  winds. 

He  took  the  keenest  delight  in  evading  the 
world  that  pressed  him.  His  curious  hatred  of 
his  own  popularity  was  to  everyone  a  mystery. 
His  intimate  friends,  of  whom  Fred  Tredennick 


«4  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

was  one,  had  whispered  that,  in  order  to  efface 
his  identity,  he  was  known  in  certain  circles 
abroad  by  the  name  of  Maltwood.  This  was 
quite  true.  In  London  he  was  a  member  of 
White's  and  the  Devonshire  as  Fetherston. 
There  was  a  reason  why  on  the  Continent  and 
elsewhere  he  should  pass  as  Mr.  Maltwood,  but 
his  friends  could  never  discover  it,  so  carefully 
did  he  conceal  it. 

Walter  Fetherston  was  a  writer  of  breathless 
mystery — but  he  was  the  essence  of  mystery  him- 
self. Once  the  reader  took  up  a  book  of  his 
he  never  laid  it  down  until  he  had  read  the  final 
chapter.  You,  my  reader,  have  more  than  once 
found  yourself  beneath  his  strange  spell.  And 
what  was  the  secret  of  his  success?  He  had  been 
asked  by  numberless  interviewers,  and  to  them 
all  he  had  made  the  same  stereotyped  reply: 
"  I  live  the  mysteries  I  write," 

He  seemed  annoyed  by  his  own  success. 
Other  writers  suffered  from  that  complaint 
known  as  "  swelled  head,"  but  Walter  Fether- 
ston  never.  He  lived  mostly  abroad  in  order  to 
avoid  the  penalty  which  all  the  famous  must  pay, 
travelling  constantly  and  known  mostly  by  his 
assumed  name  of  Maltwood. 

And  behind  all  this  some  mystery  lay.  He 
was  essentially  a  man  of  secrets. 


Certain  Suspicions  are  Excited      i$ 

Some  people  declared  that  he  had  married 
ten  years  ago,  and  gave  a  circumstantial  account 
of  how  he  had  wedded  the  daughter  of  a  noble 
Spanish  house,  but  that  a  month  later  she  had 
been  accidentally  drowned  in  the  Bay  of  Fon- 
tarabia,  and  that  the  tragedy  had  ever  preyed 
upon  his  mind.  But  upon  his  feminine  entangle- 
ments he  was  ever  silent.  He  was  a  merry  fel- 
low, full  of  bright  humour,  and  excellent  com- 
pany. But  to  the  world  he  wore  a  mask  that 
was  impenetrable. 

At  that  moment  he  was  shooting  with  his 
old  friend  Tredennick,  who  lived  close  to  St. 
Fillans,  on  the  picturesque  Loch  Earn,  when  the 
general,  hearing  of  his  presence  in  the  neighbour- 
hood, had  sent  him  an  invitation  to  accompany 
him  on  his  inspection. 

Walter  had  accepted  for  one  reason  only. 
In  the  invitation  the  general  had  remarked  that 
he  and  his  stepdaughter  Enid  were  staying  at 
the  Panmure  Hotel  at  Monifieth — so  well  known 
to  golfers — and  that  after  the  inspection  he 
hoped  they  would  lunch  together. 

Now,  Walter  had  met  Enid  Orlebar  six 
months  before  at  Biarritz,  where  she  had  been 
nursing  at  the  Croix  Rouge  Hospital  in  the 
Hotel  du  Palais,  and  the  memory  of  that  meet- 
ing had  lingered  with  him.  He  had  long  desired 


16  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

to  see  her  again,  for  her  pale  beauty  had  some- 
how attracted  him — attracted  him  in  a  manner 
that  no  woman's  face  had  ever  attracted  him 
before. 

Hitherto  he  had  held  cynical  notions  concern- 
ing love  and  matrimony,  but  ever  since  he  had 
met  Enid  Orlebar  in  that  winter  hotel  beside 
the  sea,  and  had  afterwards  discovered  her  to 
be  stepdaughter  of  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe,  he  had 
found  himself  reflecting  upon  his  own  loneliness. 

At  luncheon  he  was  to  come  face  to  face 
with  her  again.  It  was  of  this  he  was  thinking 
more  than  of  the  merits  of  mountain  batteries  or 
the  difficulties  of  limbering  or  unlimbering. 

"  See !  there  they  are ! "  exclaimed  the  gen- 
eral, suddenly  pointing  with  his  gloved  hand. 

Fetherston  strained  his  eyes  towards  the 
horizon,  but  declared  that  he  could  detect 
nothing. 

'  They're  lying  behind  that  rising  ground  to 
the  left  of  the  magazine  yonder,"  declared  the 
general,  whose  keen  vision  had  so  often  served 
him  in  good  stead.  Then,  turning  on  his  heel 
and  scanning  the  grey  horizon  seaward,  he 
added:  "  They're  going  to  fire  out  on  to  the  Gaa 
between  those  two  lighthouses  on  Buddon  Ness. 
By  Jove!"  he  laughed,  "the  men  in  them  will 
get  a  bit  of  a  shock." 


Certain  Suspicions  are  Excited      17 

"  I  shouldn't  care  much  to  be  there,  sir,"  re- 
marked Tredennick. 

"  No,"  laughed  the  general.  "  But  really 
there's  no  danger — except  that  we're  just  in  the 
line  of  their  fire." 

So  they  struck  off  to  the  left  and  approached 
the  position  by  a  circuitous  route,  being  greeted 
by  the  colonel  and  other  officers,  to  whom  the 
visit  of  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe  had  been  a  consider- 
able surprise. 

The  serviceable-looking  guns  were  already 
mounted  and  in  position,  the  range  had  been 
found;  the  reserves,  the  ponies  and  the  pipers 
were  lying  concealed  in  a  depression  close  at 
hand  when  they  arrived. 

The  general,  after  a  swift  glance  around, 
stood  with  legs  apart  and  arms  folded  to  watch, 
while  Fetherston  and  Tredennick,  with  field- 
glasses,  had  halted  a  little  distance  away. 

A  sharp  word  of  command  was  given,  when 
next  instant  the  first  gun  boomed  forth,  and 
a  shell  went  screaming  through  the  air  towards 
the  low  range  of  sand-hills  in  the  distance. 

The  general  grunted.  He  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  but  a  typical  British  officer  of  the  type 
which  has  made  the  Empire  and  won  the  war 
against  the  Huns.  He  glanced  at  the  watch 


1 8  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

upon  his  wrist,  adjusted  his  monocle,  and  said 
something  in  an  undertone  to  the  captain. 

The  firing  proceeded,  while  Fetherston,  his 
ears  dulled  by  the  constant  roar,  watched  the 
bursting  shells  with  interest. 

"  I  wonder  what  the  lighthouse  men  think  of 
it  now?  "  he  laughed,  turning  to  his  friend.  "  A 
misdirected  shot  would  send  them  quickly  to 
kingdom  come ! " 

Time  after  time  the  range  was  increased,  un- 
til, at  last,  the  shells  were  dropped  just  at  the 
spot  intended.  As  each  left  the  gun  it  shrieked 
overhead,  while  the  flash  could  be  seen  long  be- 
fore the  report  reached  the  ear. 

;<  We'll  see  in  a  few  moments  how  quickly 
they  can  get  away,"  the  general  said,  as  he  ap- 
proached Fetherston. 

Then  the  order  was  given  to  cease  fire. 
Words  of  command  sounded,  and  were  repeated 
in  the  rear,  where  ponies  and  men  lay  hidden. 
The  guns  were  run  back  under  cover,  and  with 
lightning  rapidity  dismounted,  taken  to  pieces, 
and  loaded  upon  the  backs  of  the  ponies,  together 
with  the  leather  ammunition  cases — which  looked 
like  men's  suit  cases — and  other  impedimenta. 

The  order  was  given  to  march,  and,  headed 
by  the  pipers,  who  commenced  their  inspiring 
skirl  to  the  beat  of  the  drums,  they  moved  away 


Certain  Suspicions  are  Excited      19 

over  the  rough,  broken  ground,  the  general 
standing  astraddle  and  watching  it  all  through 
his  monocle  with  critical  eye,  and  keeping  up  a 
fire  of  sarcastic  comment  directed  at  the  colonel. 

'  Why!  "  he  cried  sharply  in  his  low,  strident 
voice,  "what's  that  bay  there?  Too  weak  for 
the  work — no  good.  You  want  better  stuff  than 
that.  An  axle  yonder  not  packed  properly! 
.  .  .  And  look  at  that  black  pony — came  out  of 
a  governess-cart,  I  should  think!  .  .  .  Hey,  you 
man  there,  you  don't  want  to  hang  on  that 
pack!  Men  get  lazy  and  want  the  pony  to  help 

them  along.  And  you "  he  cried,  as  a  pony, 

heavily  laden  with  part  of  a  gun,  came  down 
an  almost  perpendicular  incline.  "  Let  that  ani- 
mal find  his  way  down  alone.  Do  you  hear? " 

Then,  after  much  manoeuvring,  he  caused 
them  to  take  up  another  position,  unlimber  their 
guns,  and  fire. 

When  this  had  been  accomplished  he  called 
the  officers  together  and,  his  monocle  in  his  eye, 
severely  criticised  their  performance,  declaring 
that  they  had  exposed  themselves  so  fully  to  the 
enemy  that  ere  they  had  had  time  to  fire  they 
would  have  been  shelled  out  of  their  position. 

The  spare  ammunition  was  exposed  all  over 
the  place,  some  of  the  reserves  were  not  under 
cover,  and  the  battery  commander  so  exposed 


20  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

himself  that  he'd  have  been  a  dead  man  before 
the  first  shot.  "  You  must  do  better  than  this — 
much  better.  That's  all." 

Then  the  four  walked  across  to  the  Panmure 
Hotel  at  Monifieth. 

Walter  Fetherston  held  his  breath.  His  lips 
were  pressed  tightly  together,  his  brows  con- 
tracted. He  was  again  to  meet  Enid  Orlebar. 

He  shot  a  covert  glance  at  the  general  walk- 
ing at  his  side.  In  his  eyes  showed  an  unusual 
expression,  half  of  suspicion,  half  of  curiosity. 

Next  instant,  however,  it  had  vanished,  and 
he  laughed  loudly  at  a  story  Tredennick  was 
telling. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  COMING  OF  A  STRANGER 

ENID  was  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  hotel  when 
the  men  arrived. 

For  a  second  Walter  glanced  into  her  splen- 
did eyes,  and  then  bowed  over  her  hand  in  his 
foreign  way,  a  murmured  expression  of  pleasure 
escaping  his  lips. 

About  twenty-two,  tall  and  slim,  she  pre- 
sented a  complete  and  typical  picture  of  the  out- 
door girl,  dressed  as  she  was  in  a  grey  jumper 
trimmed  with  purple,  a  short  golfing  skirt,  her 
tweed  hat  to  match  trimmed  with  the  feathers 
of  a  cock  pheasant. 

Essentially  a  sportswoman,  she  could  handle 
gun  or  rod,  ride  to  hounds,  or  drive  a  motor- 
car with  equal  skill,  and  as  stepdaughter  of  Sir 
Hugh  she  had  had  experience  on  the  Indian 
frontier  and  in  Egypt. 

Her  father  had  been  British  Minister  at  the 
Hague,  and  afterwards  at  Stockholm,  but  after 
his  death  her  mother  had  married  Sir  Hugh,  and 
had  become  Lady  Elcombe.  Nowadays,  how- 

21 


22  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

ever,  the  latter  was  somewhat  of  an  invalid,  and 
seldom  left  their  London  house  in  Hill  Street. 
Therefore,  Enid  was  usually  chaperoned  by  Mrs. 
Caldwell,  wife  of  the  well-known  K.C.,  and  with 
her  she  generally  spent  her  winters  on  the 
Continent. 

Blanche,  Sir  Hugh's  daughter  by  his  first 
wife,  had  married  Paul  Le  Pontois,  who  had 
been  a  captain  in  the  114th  Regiment  of  Artil- 
lery of  the  French  Army  during  the  war,  and 
lived  with  her  husband  in  France.  She  seldom 
came  to  England,  though  at  frequent  intervals 
her  father  went  over  to  visit  her. 

When  Walter  Fetherston  took  his  seat  be- 
side Enid  Orlebar  at  the  luncheon  table  a  flood 
of  strange  recollections  crowded  upon  his  mind 
— those  walks  along  the  Miramar,  that  excursion 
to  Pampeluna,  and  those  curious  facts  which  she 
had  unwittingly  revealed  to  him  in  the  course  of 
their  confidential  chats.  He  remembered  their 
leave-taking,  and  how,  as  he  had  sat  in  the 
rapide  for  Paris,  he  had  made  a  solemn  vow 
never  again  to  set  eyes  upon  her. 

There  was  a  reason  why  he  should  not — a 
strong  but  mysterious  reason. 

Yet  he  had  come  there  of  his  own  will  to 
meet  her  again — drawn  there  irresistibly  by  some 
unseen  influence  which  she  possessed. 


The  Coming  of  a  Stranger        23 

Was  it  her  beauty  that  had  attracted  him? 
Yes — he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  it  was. 
As  a  rule  he  avoided  the  society  of  women.  To 
his  intimates  he  had  laid  down  the  maxim: 
"  Don't  marry ;  keep  a  dog  if  you  want  a  faith- 
ful companion."  And  yet  he  was  once  again 
at  the  side  of  this  fair-faced  woman. 

None  around  the  table  were  aware  of  their 
previous  meeting,  and  all  were  too  busy  chatter- 
ing to  notice  the  covert  glances  which  he  shot  at 
her.  He  was  noting  her  great  beauty,  sitting 
there  entranced  by  it — he,  the  man  of  double 
personality,  who,  under  an  assumed  name,  lived 
that  gay  life  of  the  Continent,  known  in  society 
in  twenty  different  cities,  and  yet  in  England 
practically  unknown  in  his  real  self. 

Yes,  Enid  Orlebar  was  beautiful.  Surely 
there  could  be  few  fairer  women  than  she  in 
this  our  land  of  fair  women! 

Turning  upon  him,  she  smiled  gaily  as  she 
asked  whether  he  had  been  interested  in  seeing 
a  mountain  battery  at  work. 

Her  fresh  face,  betraying,  as  it  did,  her  love 
of  a  free,  open-air  life,  was  one  of  those  strangely 
mysterious  countenances  met  only  once  in  a  life- 
time. It  seemed  to  be  the  quintessence  of  pain 
and  passion,  conflict  and  agony,  desire  and  de- 
spair. She  was  not  one  of  those  befrilled, 


24  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

fashion-plate  dolls  that  one  meets  at  the  after- 
war  crushes  and  dances,  but  was  austerely  simple 
in  dress,  with  a  face  which  betrayed  a  spiritual 
nobility,  the  very  incarnation  of  modern  woman- 
hood, alive  with  modern  self-knowledge,  modern 
weariness  and  modern  sadness. 

Her  beautiful  hair,  worn  plain  and  smooth, 
was  black  as  night — wonderful  hair.  But  still 
more  wonderful  were  those  great,  dark,  velvety 
eyes,  deep  and  unfathomable.  In  them  the 
tragedy  of  life  was  tumultuously  visible,  yet  they 
were  serene,  self-possessed,  even  steady  in  their 
quiet  simplicity.  To  describe  her  features  is 
not  an  easy  task.  They  were  clear-cut,  with  a 
purity  of  the  lines  of  the  nose  and  brow  seldom 
seen  in  a  woman's  face,  dark,  well-arched  eye- 
brows, a  pretty  mouth  which  had  just  escaped 
extreme  sensuousness.  Cheeks  soft  and  deli- 
cately moulded,  a  chin  pointed,  a  skin  remark- 
able for  its  fineness  and  its  clear  pallor,  the 
whole  aspect  of  her  face  being  that  of  sweetness 
combined  with  nobility  and  majesty.  In  it  there 
was  no  dominant  expression,  for  it  seemed  to  be 
a  mask  waiting  to  be  stirred  into  life. 

Fetherston  had  known  Sir  Hugh  slightly  for 
several  years,  but  as  Enid  had  been  so  much 
abroad  with  Mrs.  Caldwell,  he  had  never  met 
her  until  that  accidental  encounter  in  Biarritz. 


The  Coming  of  a  Stranger        25 

:<  We've  been  up  here  six  weeks,"  she  was  tell- 
ing Fetherston.  "  Father  always  gets  a  lot  of 
golf  up  here,  you  know,  and  I'm  rather  fond 
of  it." 

"  I  fear  I'm  too  much  of  a  foreigner  nowa- 
days to  appreciate  the  game,"  Walter  laughed. 
"  Last  season  some  Italians  in  Rome  formed  a 
club — the  usual  set  of  ultra-smart  young  counts 
and  marquises — but  when  they  found  that  it  en- 
tailed the  indignity  of  walking  several  miles 
they  declared  it  to  be  a  game  only  fit  for  the 
populace,  and  at  once  disbanded  th<&  association." 

The  men  were  discussing  the  work  of  the 
battery,  for  four  of  the  officers  had  been  invited, 
and  the  point  raised  was  the  yange  of  mountain 
guns. 

Walter  Fetherston  glared  at  the  general 
through  his  pince-nez  with  a  curious  expression, 
but  he  did  not  join  in  the  conversation. 

Enid's  eyes  met  his,  and  the  pair  exchanged 
curiously  significant  glances. 

He  bent  to  pick  up  his  serviette,  and  in  do- 
ing so  he  whispered  to  her:  "  I  must  see  you 
outside  for  a  moment  before  I  go.  Go  out,  and 
I'll  join  you." 

Therefore,  when  the  meal  had  concluded,  the 
girl  went  forth  into  the  secluded  garden  at  the 
rear  of  the  hotel,  where  in  a  few  moments  the 


26  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

man  joined  her  at  a  spot  where  they  could  not 
be  overlooked. 

She  turned  towards  him,  separate,  remote, 
incongruous,  her  dark  eyes  showing  an  angry 
flash  in  them. 

"  Why  have  you  come  here?  "  she  demanded 
with  indignation.  The  whole  aspect  of  her  face 
was  tragic. 

"  To  see  you  again,"  was  his  brief  reply. 
"  Before  we  parted  at  Biarritz  you  lied  to  me," 
he  added  in  a  hard  tone. 

She  held  her  breath,  staring  straight  into 
his  eyes. 

"I — I  don't  understand  you!"  she  stam- 
mered. "  You  are  here  to  torment — to  perse- 
cute me ! " 

"  I  asked  you  a  question,  Enid,  but  in  re- 
sponse you  told  me  a  deliberate  lie.     Think— 
recall  that  circumstance,  and  tell  me  the  truth," 
he  said  very  quietly. 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then,  with 
her  mouth  drawn  to  hardness,  she  replied:  "  Yes, 
it  is  true — I  lied  to  you,  just  as  you  have  lied 
to  me.  Remember  what  you  told  me  that  moonlit 
night  when  we  walked  by  the  sea  towards  the 
Grotto  of  Love.  I  was  a  fool  to  have  believed 
in  you — to  have  trusted  you  as  I  did!  You  left 


The  Coming  of  a  Stranger        27 

me,  and,  though  I  wrote  time  after  time  to  your 
club,  you  refused  to  send  me  a  single  line." 

"  Because — because,  Enid,  I  dared  not,"  re- 
plied her  companion. 

"  Why  not?  "  she  demanded  quickly.  "  You 
told  me  that  you  loved  me,  yet — yet  your  own 
actions  have  shown  that  you  lied  to  me !  " 

"  No,"  he  protested  in  a  low,  earnest,  hoarse 
voice ;  "  I  told  you  the  truth,  Enid,  but " 

"  But  what? "  she  interrupted  in  quickly 
earnestness. 

'  Well,"  he  replied  after  a  brief  pause,  "  the 
fact  is  that  I  am  compelled  to  wear  a  mask,  even 
to  you,  the  woman  I  love.  I  cannot  tell  you  the 
truth — I  cannot,  dearest,  for  your  own  sake." 

"  And  you  expect  me  to  believe  this  lame 
story — eh?"  she  laughed.  She  was  pale  and 
fragile,  yet  she  seemed  to  expand  and  to  dilate 
with  force  and  energy. 

"  Enid,"  he  answered  in  a  low  voice,  with 
honesty  in  his  eyes,  "  I  would  rather  sacrifice  my 
great  love  for  you  than  betray  the  trust  I  hold 
most  sacred.  So  great  is  my  love  for  you,  rather 
would  I  never  look  upon  your  dear  face  again 
than  reveal  to  you  the  tragic  truth  and  bring 
upon  you  unhappiness  and  despair." 

'  Walter,"  she  replied  in  a  trembling  voice, 
looking  straight  into  his  countenance  with  those 


28  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

wonderful  dark  eyes  wherein  her  soul  brimmed 
over  with  weary  emotion  and  fatigued  passion, 
"  I  repeat  all  that  I  told  you  on  that  calm  night 
beside  the  sea.  I  love  you;  I  think  of  you  day 
by  day,  hour  by  hour.  But  you  have  lied  to  me, 
and  therefore  I  hate  myself  for  having  so  fool- 
ishly placed  my  trust  in  you." 

He  had  resolved  to  preserve  his  great  secret 
— a  secret  that  none  should  know. 

"  Very  well,"  he  sighed,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  '  These  recriminations  are  really  all 
useless.  Ah,  if  you  only  knew  the  truth,  Enid! 
If  I  only  dared  to  reveal  to  you  the  hideous  facts. 
But  I  refuse — they  are  too  tragic,  too  terrible. 
Better  that  we  should  part  now,  and  that  you 
should  remain  in  ignorance — better  by  far,  for 
you.  You  believe  that  I  am  deceiving  you.  Well, 
I'm  frank  and  admit  that  I  am;  but  it  is  with  a 
distinct  purpose — for  your  own  sake." 

He  held  forth  his  hand,  and  slowly  she  took 
it.  In  silence  he  bowed  over  it,  his  lips  com- 
pressed; then,  turning  upon  his  heel,  he  went 
down  the  gravelled  walk  back  to  the  hotel,  which, 
some  ten  minutes  later,  he  left  with  Fred  Tre- 
dennick,  catching  the  train  back  to  Dundee  and 
on  to  Perth. 

He  was  in  no  way  a  man  to  wear  his  heart 
upon  his  sleeve,  therefore  he  chatted  gaily  with 


The  Coming  of  a  Stranger        29 

his  friend  and  listened  to  Fred's  extravagant  ad- 
miration of  Enid's  beauty.  He  congratulated 
himself  that  his  old  friend  was  in  ignorance  of 
the  truth. 

A  curious  incident  occurred  at  the  hotel  that 
same  evening,  however,  which,  had  Walter  been 
aware  of  it,  would  probably  have  caused  him 
considerable  uneasiness  and  alarm.  Just  before 
seven  o'clock  a  tall,  rather  thin,  middle-aged, 
narrow-eyed  man,  dressed  in  dark  grey  tweeds, 
entered  the  hall  of  the  hotel  and  inquired  for 
Henry,  the  head  waiter.  He  was  well  dressed 
and  bore  an  almost  professional  air. 

The  white-headed  old  man  quickly  appeared, 
when  the  stranger,  whose  moustache  was  care- 
fully trimmed  and  who  wore  a  ruby  ring  upon 
his  white  hand,  made  an  anxious  inquiry  whether 
Fetherston,  whom  he  minutely  described,  had 
been  there  that  day.  At  first  the  head  waiter 
hesitated  and  was  uncommunicative,  but,  the 
stranger  having  uttered  a  few  low  words, 
Henry's  manner  instantly  changed.  He  started, 
looked  in  wonder  into  the  stranger's  face,  and, 
taking  him  into  the  smoking-room — at  that  mo- 
ment unoccupied — he  allowed  himself  to  be 
closely  questioned  regarding  the  general  and  his 
stepdaughter,  as  well  as  the  man  who  had  that 
day  been  their  guest.  The  stranger  was  a  man 


30  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

of  quick  actions,  and  his  inquiries  were  sharp 
and  to  the  point. 

"  You  say  that  Mr.  Fetherston  met  the  young 
lady  outside  after  luncheon,  and  they  had  an 
argument  in  secret,  eh? "  asked  the  stranger. 

Henry  replied  in  the  affirmative,  declaring 
that  he  unfortunately  could  not  overhear  the 
subject  under  discussion.  But  he  believed  the 
pair  had  quarrelled. 

"And  where  has  Mr.  Fetherston  gone?" 
asked  his  keen-eyed  questioner. 

"  He  is,  I  believe,  the  guest  of  -Major  Tre- 
dennick,  who  lives  on  the  other  side  of  Perthshire 
at  Invermay  on  Loch  Earn." 

"And  the  young  lady  goes  back  to  Hill 
Street  with  her  stepfather,  eh?  " 

"  On  Wednesday." 

"Good!"  was  the  stranger's  reply.  Then, 
thanking  the  head  waiter  for  the  information  in 
a  sharp,  businesslike  voice,  and  handing  him  five 
shillings,  he  took  train  back  from  Monifieth  to 
Dundee,  and  went  direct  to  the  chief  post-office. 

From  there  he  dispatched  a  carefully  con- 
structed cipher  telegram  to  an  address  in  the 
Boulevard  Anspach,  in  Brussels,  afterwards 
lighting  an  excellent  cigar  and  strolling  along 
the  busy  street  with  an  air  of  supreme  self-sat- 
isfaction. 


The  Coming  of  a  Stranger        31 

"  If  this  man,  Fetherston,  has  discovered  the 
truth,  as  I  fear  he  has  done,"  the  hard-faced  man 
muttered  to  himself,  "  then  by  his  action  to-day 
he  has  sealed  his  own  doom ! — and  Er\d  Ovlebar 
herself  will  silence  him  I  " 


CHAPTER  III 

INTEODUCES  DOCTOR  WEIRMABSH 

THREE  days  had  elapsed. 

In  the  dingy  back  room  of  a  dull,  drab  house 
in  the  Vauxhall  Bridge  Road,  close  to  Victoria 
Station  in  London,  the  narrow-eyed  man  who 
had  so  closely  questioned  old  Henry  at  the  Pan- 
mure  Hotel,  sat  at  an  old  mahogany  writing- 
table  reading  a  long  letter  written  upon  thin 
foreign  notepaper. 

The  incandescent  gas-lamp  shed  a  cold  glare 
across  the  room.  On  one  side  of  the  smoke- 
grimed  apartment  was  a  shabby  leather  couch,  on 
the  other  side  a  long  nest  of  drawers,  while  be- 
side the  fireplace  was  an  expanding  gas-bracket 
placed  in  such  a  position  that  it  could  be  used 
to  examine  anyone  seated  in  the  big  arm-chair. 
Pervading  the  dingy  apartment  was  a  faint  smell 
of  carbolic,  for  it  was  a  consulting-room,  and 
the  man  so  intent  upon  the  letter  was  Dr.  Weir- 
marsh,  the  hard-working  practitioner  so  well 
known  among  the  lower  classes  in  Pimlico. 

Those  who  pass  along  the  Vauxhall  Bridge 
Road  know  well  that  house  with  its  curtains  yel- 

32 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      33 

low  with  smoke — the  one  which  stands  back  be- 
hind a  small  strip  of  smoke-begrimed  garden. 
Over  the  gate  is  a  red  lamp,  and  upon  the  rail- 
ings a  brass  plate  with  the  name  :  "  Mr.  Weir- 
marsh,  Surgeon." 

About  three  years  previously  he  had  bought 
the  practice  from  old  Dr.  Bland,  but  he  lived 
alone,  a  silent  and  unsociable  man,  with  a  deaf 
old  housekeeper,  although  he  had  achieved  a  con- 
siderable reputation  among  his  patients  in  the 
neighbouring  by-streets.  But  his  practice  was 
not  wholly  confined  to  the  poorer  classes,  for  he 
was  often  consulted  by  well-dressed  members  of 
the  foreign  colony — on  account,  probably,  of  his 
linguistic  attainments.  A  foreigner  with  an  im- 
perfect knowledge  of  English  naturally  prefers 
a  doctor  to  whom  he  can  speak  in  his  own  tongue. 
Therefore,  as  Weirmarsh  spoke  French,  Italian 
and  Spanish  with  equal  fluency,  it  was  not  sur- 
prising that  he  had  formed  quite  a  large  practice 
among  foreign  residents. 

His  appearance,  however,  was  the  reverse 
of  prepossessing,  and  his  movements  were  often 
most  erratic.  About  his  aquiline  face  was  a 
shrewd  and  distrustful  expression,  while  his 
keen,  dark  eyes,  too  narrowly  set,  were  curiously 
shifty  and  searching.  When  absent,  as  he  often 
was,  a  young  fellow  named  Shipley  acted  as 


34  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

locum  tenens,  but  so  eccentric  was  he  that  even 
Shipley  knew  nothing  of  the  engagements  which 
took  him  from  home  so  frequently. 

George  Weirmarsh  was  a  man  of  few  friends 
and  fewer  words.  He  lived  for  himself  alone, 
devoting  himself  assiduously  to  his  practice,  and 
doing  much  painstaking  writing  at  the  table 
whereat  he  now  sat,  or  else,  when  absent,  travel- 
ling swiftly  with  aims  that  were  ever  mysterious. 

He  had  had  a  dozen  or  so  patients  that  eve- 
ning, but  the  last  had  gone,  and  he  had  settled 
himself  to  read  the  letter  which  had  arrived  when 
his  little  waiting-room  had  been  full  of  people. 

As  he  read  he  made  scribbled  notes  on  a  piece 
of  paper  upon  his  blotting-pad,  his  thin,  white 
hand,  delicate  as  a  woman's,  bearing  that  splen- 
did ruby  ring,  his  one  possession  in  which  he 
took  a  pride. 

"  Ah ! "  he  remarked  to  himself  in  a  hard 
tone  of  sarcasm,  "what  fools  the  shrewdest  of 
men  are  sometimes  over  a  woman!  So  at  last 
he's  fallen — like  the  others — and  the  secret  will 
be  mine.  Most  excellent!  After  all,  every  man 
has  one  weak  point  in  his  armour,  and  I  was  not 
mistaken." 

Then  he  paused,  and,  leaning  his  chin  upon 
his  hand,  looked  straight  before  him,  deep  in 
reflection. 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      35 

"  I  have  few  fears — very  few,"  he  remarked 
to  himself,  "  but  the  greatest  is  of  Walter 
Fetherston.  What  does  he  know? — that's  the 
chief  question.  If  he  has  discovered  the  truth 
— if  he  knows  my  real  name  and  who  I  am — then 
the  game's  up,  and  my  hest  course  is  to  leave 
England.  And  yet  there  is  another  way,"  he 
went  on,  speaking  slowly  to  himself — "  to  close 
his  lips.  Dead  men  tell  no  tales." 

He  sat  for  a  long  time,  his  narrow-set  eyes 
staring  into  space,  contemplating  a  crime.  As 
a  medical  man,  he  knew  a  dozen  ingenious  ways 
by  which  Walter  Fetherston  might  be  sent  to 
his  grave  in  circumstances  that  would  appear 
perfectly  natural.  His  gaze  at  last  wandered 
to  the  book-case  opposite,  and  became  centred 
upon  a  thick,  brown-covered,  dirty  volume  by 
a  writer  named  Taylor.  That  book  contained 
much  that  might  be  of  interest  to  him  in  the 
near  future. 

Of  a  sudden  the  handle  of  the  door  turned, 
and  Mrs.  Kelsey,  the  old  housekeeper,  in  rusty 
black,  admitted  Enid  Orlebar  without  the  cere- 
mony of  asking  permission  to  enter. 

The  girl  was  dressed  in  a  pearl  grey  and  pink 
sports  coat,  with  a  large  black  hat,  and  carried 
a  silver  chain  handbag.  Around  her  throat  was 


36  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

a  white  feather  boa,  while  her  features  were  half 
concealed  by  the  veil  she  wore. 

"  Ah,  my  dear  young  lady,"  cried  Weirmarsh, 
rising  quickly  and  greeting  her,  while  next  mo- 
ment he  turned  to  his  table  and  hastily  concealed 
the  foreign  letter  and  notes,  "  I  had  quite  for- 
gotten that  you  were  to  consult  me.  Pray  for- 
give me." 

'  There  is  nothing  to  forgive,"  the  beautiful 
girl  replied  in  a  low,  colourless  voice,  when  the 
housekeeper  had  disappeared,  and  she  had  seated 
herself  in  the  big  leather  arm-chair  in  which  so 
many  patients  daily  sat.  "  You  ordered  me  to 
come  here  to  you,  and  I  have  come." 

"Against  your  will,  eh?"  he  asked  slowly, 
with  a  strange  look  in  his  keen  eyes. 

"  I  am  perfectly  well  now.  I  do  not  see  why 
my  stepfather  should  betray  such  anxiety  on  my 
account." 

'  The  general  is  greatly  concerned  about 
you,"  Weirmarsh  said,  seated  cross-legged  at  his 
writing-chair,  toying  with  his  pen  and  looking 
into  the  girl's  handsome  face. 

"  He  wished  me  to  see  you.  That  is  why  I 
wrote  to  you." 

'  Well,'*  she  said,  wavering  beneath  his  sharp 
glance,  "  I  am  here.  What  do  you  wish?  " 

"  I  wish  to  have  a  little  private  talk  with  you, 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      37 

Miss  Enid,"  he  replied  thoughtfully,  stroking 
his  small  greyish  moustache,  "  a  talk  concerning 
your  own  welfare." 

"  But  I  am  not  ill,"  she  cried.  "  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  desire  me  to  come  to  you  to- 
night." 

"  I  have  my  own  reasons,  my  dear  young 
lady,"  was  the  man's  firm  response,  his  eyes 
fixed  immovably  upon  hers.  "  And  I  think  you 
know  me  well  enough  to  be  aware  that  when  Dr. 
Weirmarsh  sets  his  mind  upon  a  thing  he  is  not 
easily  turned  aside." 

A  slight,  almost  imperceptible,  shudder  ran 
through  her.  But  Weirmarsh  detected  it,  and 
knew  that  this  girl  of  extraordinary  and  mys- 
terious charm  was  as  wax  in  his  hands.  In  the 
presence  of  the  man  who  had  cast  such  a  strange 
spell  about  her  she  was  utterly  helpless.  There 
was  no  suggestion  of  hypnotism — she  herself 
scouted  the  idea — yet  ever  since  Sir  Hugh  had 
taken  her  to  consult  this  man  of  medicine  at  a 
small  suburban  villa,  five  years  ago,  he  had  en- 
tered her  life  never  again  to  leave  it. 

She  realised  herself  irresistibly  in  his  power 
whenever  she  felt  his  presence  near  her.  At  his 
bidding  she  came  and  went,  and  against  her  bet- 
ter nature  she  acted  as  he  commanded. 

He  had  cured  her  of  an  attack  of  nerves  five 


38  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

years  ago,  but  she  had  ever  since  been  beneath 
his  hated  thraldom.  His  very  eyes  fascinated 
her  with  their  sinister  expression,  yet  to  her 
he  could  do  no  wrong. 

A  thousand  times  she  had  endeavoured  to 
break  free  from  that  strong  but  unseen  influence, 
but  she  always  became  weak  and  easily  led  as 
soon  as  she  fell  beneath  the  extraordinary  power 
which  the  obscure  doctor  possessed.  Time  after 
time  he  called  her  to  his  side,  as  on  this  occasion, 
on  pretence  of  prescribing  for  her,  and  yet  with 
an  ulterior  motive.  Enid  Orlebar  was  a  useful 
tool  in  the  hands  of  this  man  who  was  so  un- 
scrupulous. 

She  sighed,  passing  her  gloved  hand  wearily 
across  her  hot  brow.  Strange  how  curiously  his 
presence  always  affected  her! 

She  had  read  in  books  of  the  mysteries  of 
hypnotic  suggestion,  but  she  was  far  too  practical 
to  believe  in  that  This  was  not  hypnotism,  she 
often  declared  within  herself,  but  some  remark- 
able and  unknown  power  possessed  by  this  man 
who,  beneath  the  guise  of  the  hard-working  sur- 
geon, was  engaged  in  schemes  of  remarkable 
ingenuity  and  wondrous  magnitude. 

He  held  her  in  the  palm  of  his  hand.  He 
held  her  for  life — or  for  death. 

To  her  stepfather  she  had,  times  without 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      41 

'.  hall  I  speak  plainly?  "  asked  the  man  in 
eyed  doi  « ™M          „       .  .  f 

, J  %  „       lower  she  was.       Will  you  forgive  me  if 

w  •          intrude  myself  upon  your  private  affairs 
-r-,   . ,  ve  you  a  few  words  of  advice?  " 

,  lank  you,  Dr.  Weirmarsh,  but  I  cannot 
ciation  b-          J    .  ™  .  e 

,t  my  private  affairs  are  any  concern  ot 
in  compl    ,  ,.    ,      ..i  i      ,  TT 

TTM1  ,  she  replied  with  some  hauteur.     Mow 
to  Hill  £  ,   ,  j  .        .         i       i  j.u 

.  d  she  endeavoured  in  vain  to  break  those 

den.     Thai  .  ,,  .      ,     » 

,   \  a  very  sincere  friend  of  your  step- 
was  no  dom.,,  .  ,,  .      ,    ,  ,     „ 

•*•»«  -  sincere  friend  ot  yours  also, 
was  ever  a  mystery.  ,  «  T.    .     , 

..  T  _  'ness.        It  is  because 

1  see  bv  your  face  thacj  .  i    ,        « 

ivise    you — but,    ot 

creat  improvement  in  you,  yo       ..,  i    j 

"^vitiiouL  conclufl- 
less,  far  from  well,"  the  man  said,  . .     „      -, 

n  fixed  upon 
fixed  upon  her  pale  countenance.  ,.     » 

"  Dr.  Weirmarsh,"  she  protested,  "  this  con- 
stant declaration  that  I  am  ill  is  awful.  I  tell 
you  I  am  quite  as  well  as  you  are  yourself." 

"Ah!  there,  I'm  afraid,  you  are  mistaken, 
my  dear  young  lady,"  he  replied.  '  You  may 
feel  well,  but  you  are  not  in  quite  such  good 
health  as  you  imagine.  The  general  is  greatly 
concerned  about  you,  and  for  that  reason  I 
wished  to  see  you  to-night,"  he  added  with  a  smile 
as,  bending  towards  her,  he  asked  her  to  remove 
her  glove. 

He  took  her  wrist,  holding  his  stop-watch  in 


38  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

years  ago,  but  she  had  ever  since  been  bust  as 
his  hated  thraldom.     His  very  eyes  fasJe  run 
her  with  their  sinister  expression,  yet 
he  could  do  no  wrong.  nd  yes- 

A  thousand  times  she  had  endeavc 
break  free  from  that  strong  but  unseen  in  exotic 
but  she  always  became  weak  and  easiljth — the 
soon  as  she  fell  beneath  the  extraordinary 
which  the  obscure  doctor  possessed.    Ti  end  of 
time  he  called  her  to  his  side,  as  on  this  c^  , 
on  pretence  of  prescribing  for  her,  ar;d  y^°:>w." 
an  ulterior  motive.    En^  opening  her  eyes   in 
tool  in  the  hands  Dictatorial  manner, 
scrupulous.  and  he  hesitated,  still  gazing 

She  sighed^ose  strangely  sinister  eyes  of  his. 
acrossAhpftjss  Enid,  because  a  complete  change 
will  be  beneficial  to  you  in  more  ways  than  one," 
he  replied  with  an  air  of  mystery. 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  declared. 

"  Probably  not,"  he  laughed,  with  that  cyni- 
cal air  which  so  irritated  her.  She  hated  herself 
for  coming  to  that  detestable  house  of  grim 
silence ;  yet  his  word  to  her  was  a  command  which 
she  felt  impelled  by  some  strange  force  to  fulfil 
with  child-like  obedience.  "But  I  assure  you  I 
am  advising  you  for  your  own  benefit,  my  dear 
young  lady." 

"In  what  way?" 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      41 

"  Shall  I  speak  plainly?  "  asked  the  man  in 
whose  power  she  was.  '  Will  you  forgive  me  if 
I  so  far  intrude  myself  upon  your  private  affairs 
as  to  give  you  a  few  words  of  advice  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  Dr.  Weirmarsh,  but  I  cannot 
see  that  my  private  affairs  are  any  concern  of 
yours,"  she  replied  with  some  hauteur.  How 
often  had  she  endeavoured  in  vain  to  break  those 
invisible  shackles? 

"  I  am  a  very  sincere  friend  of  your  step- 
father, and  I  hope  a  sincere  friend  of  yours  also," 
he  said  with  perfect  coolness.  "  It  is  because 
of  this  I  presume  to  advise  you — but,  of 
course "  And  he  hesitated,  without  conclud- 
ing his  sentence.  His  eyes  were  again  fixed  upon 
her  as  though  gauging  accurately  the  extent  of 
his  influence  upon  her. 

"  And  what  do  you  advise,  pray?  "  she  asked, 
"  It  seems  that  you  have  called  me  to  you  to- 
night in  order  to  intrude  upon  my  private  af- 
fairs," she  added,  with  her  eyes  flashing  resent- 
ment. 

"  Well — yes,  Miss  Enid,"  he  answered,  his 
manner  changing  slightly.  '  The  fact  is,  I  wish 
to  warn  you  against  what  must  inevitably  bring 
disaster  both  upon  yourself  and  your  family." 

"Disaster?"  she  echoed.  "I  don't  follow 
you." 


42  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Then  let  me  speak  a  little  more  plainly," 
he  replied,  his  strange,  close-set  eyes  staring  into 
hers  until  she  quivered  beneath  his  cold,  hard 
gaze.  "  You  have  recently  become  acquainted 
with  Walter  Fetherston.  You  met  him  at  Biar- 
ritz six  months  ago,  and  on  Monday  last  he 
lunched  with  you  up  at  Monifieth.  After 
luncheon  you  met  him  in  the  garden  of  the  hotel, 
and " 

"How  do  you  know  all  this?"  she  gasped, 
startled,  yet  fascinated  by  his  gaze. 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  he  laughed,  "  it  is 
my  business  to  know  certain  things — that  is  one 
of  them." 

She  held  her  breath  for  a  moment. 

"  And  pray  how  does  that  concern  you  ? 
What  interest  have  you  in  my  acquain- 
tances?" 

"  A  very  keen  one,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 
*  That  man  is  dangerous  to  you — and  to  your 
family.  The  reason  why  I  have  asked  you  here 
to-night  is  to  tell  you  that  you  must  never  meet 
him  again.  If  you  value  your  life,  and  that  of 
your  mother  and  her  husband,  avoid  him  as  you 
would  some  venomous  reptile.  He  is  your  most 
deadly  enemy." 

The  girl  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Her  great, 
dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  threadbare  car- 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      43 

pet.  What  he  told  her  was  disconcerting,  yet, 
knowing  instinctively,  as  she  did,  how  passion- 
ately Walter  loved  her,  she  could  not  bring  her- 
self to  believe  that  he  was  really  her  enemy. 

"  No,  Dr.  Weirmarsh,"  she  replied,  raising 
her  eyes  again  to  his,  "  you  are  quite  mistaken. 
I  know  Walter  Fetherston  better  than  you. 
Your  allegation  is  false.  You  have  told  me  this 
because — because  you  have  some  motive  in  part- 
ing us." 

'  Yes,"  he  said  frankly,  "  I  have — a  strong 
motive" 

'  You  do  not  conceal  it?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered.  '  Were  I  a  younger 
man  you  might,  perhaps,  accuse  me  of  scheming 
to  wriggle  myself  into  your  good  graces,  Miss 
Enid.  But  I  am  getting  old,  and,  moreover,  I'm 
a  confirmed  bachelor,  therefore  you  cannot,  I 
think,  accuse  me  of  such  ulterior  motives.  No, 
I  only  point  out  this  peril  for  your  family's 
sake — and  your  own." 

"  Is  Mr.  Fetherston  such  an  evil  genius, 
then? "  she  asked.  '  The  world  knows  him  as  a 
writer  of  strictly  moral,  if  exciting,  books." 

*  The  books  are  one  thing — the  man  himself 
another.  Some  men  reflect  their  own  souls  in 
their  works,  others  write  but  canting  hypocrisy. 
It  is  so  with  Walter  Fetherston — the  man  who 


44  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

has  a  dual  personality  and  whose  private  life  will 
not  bear  the  light  of  publicity." 

"  You  wish  to  prejudice  me  against  him, 
eh?  "  she  said  in  a  hard  tone. 

"  I  merely  wish  to  advise  you  for  your  good, 
my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said.  "It  is  not  for 
me,  your  medical  man,  to  presume  to  dictate  to 
you,  I  know.  But  the  general  is  my  dear  friend, 
therefore  I  feel  it  my  duty  to  reveal  to  you  the 
bitter  truth." 

Thoughts  of  Walter  Fetherston,  the  man 
in  whose  eyes  had  shone  the  light  of  true  honesty 
when  he  spoke,  arose  within  her.  She  was  well 
aware  of  all  the  curious  gossip  concerning  the 
popular  writer,  whose  eccentricities  were  so  fre- 
quently hinted  at  in  the  gossipy  newspapers, 
but  she  was  convinced  that  she  knew  the  real 
Fetherston  behind  the  mask  he  so  constantly 
wore. 

This  man  before  her  was  deceiving  her.  He 
had  some  sinister  motive  in  thus  endeavouring  to 
plant  seeds  of  suspicion  within  her  mind.  It  was 
plain  that  he  was  endeavouring  in  some  way  to 
secure  his  own  ends.  Those  ends,  however,  were 
a  complete  and  inexplicable  mystery. 

"  I  cannot  see  that  my  friendship  for  Mr. 
Fetherston  can  have  any  interest  for  you,"  she 
replied.  "  Let  us  talk  of  something  else." 


Introduces  Doctor  Weirmarsh      45 

"  But  it  has,"  he  persisted.  '  You  must  never 
meet  that  man  again — you  hear!  never — other- 
wise you  will  discover  to  your  cost  that  my  seri- 
ous warning  has  a  foundation  only  too  solid; 
that  he  is  your  bitterest  enemy  posing  as  your 
most  affectionate  friend." 

"  I  don't  believe  you,  Dr.  Weirmarsh! "  she 
cried  resentfully,  springing  to  her  feet.  "  I'll 
never  believe  you !  " 

"  My  dear  young  lady,"  the  man  exclaimed, 
"  you  are  really  quite  unnerved  to-night.  The 
general  was  quite  right.  I  will  mix  you  a  draught 
like  the  one  you  had  before — perfectly  innocuous 
— something  to  soothe  those  unstrung  nerves  of 
yours."  And  beneath  his  breath,  as  his  cruel 
eyes  twinkled,  he  added:  "  Something  to  bring 
reason  to  those  warped  and  excited  senses — 
something  to  sow  within  you  suspicion  and  hatred 
of  Walter  Fetherston." 

Then  aloud  he  added,  as  he  sprang  to  his 
feet :  "  Excuse  me  for  a  moment  while  I  go  and 
dispense  it.  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  seconds." 

He  left  the  room  when,  quick  as  lightning, 
Enid  stretched  forth  her  hand  to  the  drawer  of 
the  writing-table  into  which  she  had  seen  the 
doctor  toss  the  foreign  letter  he  had  been  read- 
ing when  she  entered. 


46  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

She  drew  it  out,  and  scanned  eagerly  a  dozen 
or  so  of  the  closely- written  lines  in  Spanish. 

Then  she  replaced  it  with  trembling  fingers, 
and,  closing  the  drawer,  sat  staring  straight  be- 
fore her — dumbfounded,  rigid. 

What  was  the  mystery? 

By  the  knowledge  she  had  obtained  she  be- 
came forearmed — even  defiant.  In  the  light  of 
that  astounding  discovery,  she  now  read  the  mys- 
terious Dr.  Weirmarsh  as  she  would  an  open 
book.  She  held  her  breath,  and  an  expression 
of  hatred  escaped  her  lips. 

When,  a  moment  later,  he  brought  her  a 
pale-yellow  draught  in  a  graduated  glass,  she 
took  it  from  his  hand,  and,  drawing  herself  up  in 
defiance,  flung  its  contents  behind  her  into  the 
fireplace.  She  believed  that  at  last  she  had  con- 
quered that  strangely  evil  influence  which,  eman- 
ating from  this  obscure  practitioner,  had  fallen 
upon  her. 

But  the  man  only  shrugged  his  shoulders  and, 
turning  from  her,  laughed  unconcernedly.  He 
knew  that  he  held  her  in  bonds  stronger  than 
steel,  that  his  will  was  hers — for  good  or  for 
evil. 


CHAPTER  IV 

REVEALS  TEMPTATION 

"  I  TELL  you  it  can't  be  done — the  risk  is  far  too 
great!"  declared  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe,  standing 
with  his  back  to  the  fireplace  in  his  cosy  little 
den  in  Hill  Street  at  noon  next  day. 

"  It  must  be  done,"  answered  Dr.  Weirmarsh, 
who  sat  in  the  deep  green  leather  arm-chair,  with 
the  tips  of  his  fingers  placed  together. 

The  general  glanced  suspiciously  at  the  door 
to  reassure  himself  that  it  was  closed. 

'  You  ask  too  much,"  he  said.  Then,  in  a 
decisive  voice,  while  his  fingers  toyed  nervously 
with  his  monocle,  he  added,  "  I  have  resolved 
to  end  it  once  and  for  all." 

The  doctor  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  ex- 
pression in  those  cold,  keen  eyes  of  his  and  smiled, 
"  I  fear,  Sir  Hugh,  that  if  you  attempt  to  carry 
out  such  a  decision  you  will  find  insuperable 
difficulties,"  he  said  quietly. 

'  I  desire  no  good  advice  from  you,  Weir- 
marsh,"  the  old  general  snapped.  "  I  fully  real- 
ise my  position.  You  have  cornered  me — cut  off 

47 


48  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

my  retreat — so  I  have  placed  my  back  against 
the  wall." 

"  Good!  And  how  will  such  an  attitude 
benefit  you,  pray?  " 

"  Understand,  I  am  in  no  mood  to  be  taunted 
by  you!"  the  old  man  cried,  with  an  angry 
flash  in  his  eyes.  '  You  very  cleverly  enticed 
me  into  the  net,  and  now  you  are  closing  it 
about  me." 

"  My  dear  Sir  Hugh,"  replied  the  doctor, 
"  ours  was  a  mere  business  transaction,  surely. 
Carry  your  thoughts  back  to  six  years  ago. 
After  your  brilliant  military  career  you  returned 
from  India  and  found  yourself,  as  so  many  of 
your  profession  find  themselves,  in  very  strait- 
ened circumstances.  You  were  bound  to  keep  up 
appearances,  and,  in  order  to  do  so,  got  into 
the  hands  of  Eli  Moser,  the  moneylender.  You 
married  Lady  Orlebar,  and  had  entered  London 
society  when,  of  a  sudden,  the  scoundrelly  usurer 
began  to  put  the  screw  upon  you.  At  that  mo- 
ment you — luckily,  I  think,  for  yourself — met 
me,  and — well,  I  was  your  salvation,  for  I 
pointed  out  to  you  an  easy  way  by  which  to  pay 
your  creditors  and  rearrange  your  affairs  upon 
a  sound  financial  basis.  Indeed,  I  did  it  for  you. 
I  saved  you  from  the  moneylender.  Did  I 
not?" 


Reveals  Temptation  49 

He  spoke  in  a  calm,  even  tone,  without  once 
removing  his  eyes  from  the  man  who  stood  upon 
the  hearthrug  with  bent  head  and  folded  arms. 

"  I  know,  Weirmarsh.  It's  true  that  you 
saved  me  from  bankruptcy — but  think  what 
penalty  I  have  paid  by  accepting  your  terms," 
he  answered  in  a  low,  broken  voice.  '  The  devil 
tempted  me,  and  I  fell  into  your  damnable  net." 

"  I  hardly  think  it  necessary  for  you  to  put 
it  that  way,"  replied  the  doctor  without  the  least 
sign  of  annoyance.  "  I  showed  you  how  you 
could  secure  quite  a  comfortable  income,  and  you 
readily  enough  adopted  my  suggestion." 

"  Readily !  "  echoed  the  fine-looking  old  sol- 
dier. "  Ah !  you  don't  know  what  my  decision 
cost  me — it  has  cost  me  my  very  life." 

"  Nonsense,  man,"  laughed  the  doctor  scorn- 
fully. '  You  got  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Jews, 
and  ever  since  that  day  you  haven't  had  five 
minutes'  worry  over  your  finances.  I  promised 
you  I  would  provide  you  with  an  ample  income, 
and " 

"  And  you've  done  so,  Weirmarsh,"  cried 
the  old  general;  "  an  income  far  greater  than  I 
expected.  Yet  what  do  I  deserve?  " 

"  My  dear  General,"  said  the  doctor  quite 
calmly,  "  you're  not  yourself  to-day ;  suffering 
from  a  slight  attack  of  remorse,  eh?  It's  a  bad 


50  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

complaint;  I've  had  it,  and  I  know.  But  it's 
like  the  measles — you're  very  nearly  certain  to 
contract  it  once  in  a  lifetime." 

"Have  you  no  pity  for  me?"  snarled  Sir 
Hugh,  glaring  at  the  narrow-eyed  man  seated 
before  him.  "  Don't  you  realise  that  by  this 
last  demand  of  yours  you've  driven  me  into  a 
corner? " 

Weirmarsh's  brows  contracted  slightly,  and 
he  shot  an  evil  glance  at  the  man  before  him— 
the  man  who  was  his  victim.  "  But  you  must  do 
it.  You  still  want  money — and  lots  of  it,  don't 
you?  "  he  said  in  a  low,  decisive  voice. 

"I  refuse,  I  tell  you!"  cried  Sir  Hugh 
angrily. 

"Hush!  Someone  may  overhear,"  the  doc- 
tor said.  "  Is  Enid  at  home  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

'  I  saw  her  last  night,  as  you  wished.  She 
is  not  well.  Her  nerves  are  still  in  an  extremely 
weak  state,"  Weirmarsh  said,  in  order  to  change 
the  topic  of  conversation.  "  I  think  you  should 
send  her  abroad  out  of  the  way — to  the  South 
somewhere." 

"  So  she  told  me.  I  shall  try  and  get  Mrs. 
Caldwell  to  take  her  to  Sicily — if  you  consider 
the  air  would  be  beneficial." 

"  Excellent — Palermo    or    Taormina — send 


Reveals  Temptation  51 

the  girl  there  as  soon  as  ever  you  can.  She  seems 
unstrung,  and  may  get  worse;  a  change  will 
certainly  do  her  good,"  replied  the  man  whose 
craft  and  cunning  were  unequalled.  "  I  know," 
he  added  reflectively,  "  that  Enid  dislikes  me — 
•»diy,  I  can  never  make  out." 

"  Instinct,  I  suppose,  Weirmarsh,"  was  the 
old  man's  reply.  "  She  suspects  that  you  hold 
me  in  your  power,  as  you  undoubtedly  do." 

"  Now  that  is  really  a  most  silly  idea  of 
yours,  Sir  Hugh.  Do  get  rid  of  it.  Such  a 
thought  pains  me  to  a  great  degree,"  declared 
the  crafty-eyed  man.  "  For  these  past  years  I 
have  provided  you  with  a  good  income,  enabling 
you  to  keep  up  your  position  in  the  world,  in- 
stead of — well,  perhaps  shivering  on  the  Em- 
bankment at  night  and  partaking  of  the  hospi- 
tality of  the  charitably  disposed.  Yet  you  up- 
braid me  as  though  I  had  treated  you  shabbily!  " 
He  spoke  with  an  irritating  air  of  superiority, 
for  he  knew  that  this  man  who  occupied  such  a 
high  position,  who  was  an  intimate  friend  and 
confidant  of  the  Minister  of  War,  and  universal- 
ly respected  throughout  the  country,  was  but  a 
tool  in  his  unscrupulous  hands. 

'  You  ask  me  too  much,"  exclaimed  the  grey- 
moustached  officer  in  a  hard,  low  voice. 

l<  The  request  does  not  emanate  from  me," 


$2  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

was  the  doctor's  reply;  "I  am  but  the  mouth- 
piece." 

"  Yes,  the  mouthpiece — but  the  eyes  and  ears 
also,  Weirmarsh,"  replied  Sir  Hugh.  '  You 
bought  me,  body  and  soul,  for  a  wage  of  five 
thousand  pounds  a  year " 

"  The  salary  of  one  of  His  Majesty's  Minis- 
ters," interrupted  the  doctor.  "  It  has  been  paid 
you  with  regularity,  together  with  certain  extras. 
When  you  have  wished  for  a  loan  of  five  hun- 
dred or  so,  I  have  never  refused  it." 

"  I  quite  admit  that ;  but  you've  always  re- 
ceived a  quid  pro  quo"  the  general  snapped. 
"  Look  at  the  thousands  upon  thousands  I  put 
through  for  you !  " 

'  The  whole  transaction  has  from  the  begin^ 
ning  been  a  matter  of  business ;  and,  as  far  as  I 
am  concerned,  I  have  fulfilled  my  part  of  the 
contract." 

The  man  standing  upon  the  hearthrug  sighed. 
:<  I  suppose,"  he  said,  "  that  I  really  have  no  right 
to  complain.  I  clutched  at  the  straw  you  held 
out  to  me,  and  saved  myself  at  a  cost  greater 
than  the  world  can  ever  know.  I  hate  myself 
for  it.  If  I  had  then  known  what  I  know  now 
concerning  you  and  your  friends,  I  would  rather 
have  blown  out  my  brains  than  have  listened  to 


Reveals  Temptation  S3 

your  accursed  words  of  temptation.    The  whole 
plot  is  damnable !  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I  am  not  Mephistopheles," 
laughed  the  narrow-eyed  doctor. 

'  You  are  worse,"  declared  the  general  boldly. 
*  You    bought    me    body    and    soul,    but    by 
Heaven!"  he  cried,  "you  have  not  bought  my 
family,  sir! " 

Weirmarsh  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair. 

"  And  so  you  refuse  to  do  this  service  which 
I  requested  of  you,  yesterday,  eh? "  he  asked 
very  slowly. 

"  I  do." 

A  silence  fell  between  the  two  men,  broken 
only  by  the  low  ticking  of  the  little  Sheraton 
clock  upon  the  mantelshelf. 

"  Have  you  fully  reflected  upon  what  this" 
refusal  of  yours  may  cost  you,  General?  "  asked 
the  doctor  in  a  slow,  hard  voice,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  other's  countenance. 

"  It  will  cost  me  just  as  much  as  you  decide 
it  shall,"  was  the  response  of  the  unhappy  man, 
who  found  himself  enmeshed  by  the  crafty 
practitioner. 

'  You  speak  as  though  I  were  the  principal, 
whereas  I  am  but  the  agent,"  Weirmarsh 
protested. 

"  Principal  or  agent,  my  decision,  Doctor,  is 


54  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

irrevocable — I  refuse  to  serve  your  accursed  ends 
further." 

"  Really,"  laughed  the  other,  still  entirely 
unruffled,  "  your  attitude  to-day  is  quite  amusing. 
You've  got  an  attack  of  liver,  and  you  should 
allow  me  to  prescribe  for  you." 

The  general  made  a  quick  gesture  of  im- 
patience, but  did  not  reply. 

It  was  upon  the  tip  of  Weirmarsh's  tongue 
to  refer  to  Walter  Fetherston,  but  next  instant 
he  had  reflected.  If  Sir  Hugh  really  intended 
to  abandon  himself  to  remorse  and  make  a  fool 
of  himself,  why  should  he  stretch  forth  a  hand 
to  save  him? 

That  ugly  revelations — very  ugly  ones — 
might  result  was  quite  within  the  range  of  possi- 
bility, therefore  Weirmarsh,  whose  craft  and  cun- 
ning were  amazing,  intended  to  cover  his  own  re- 
treat behind  the  back  of  the  very  man  whom  he 
had  denounced  to  Enid  Orlebar. 

He  sat  in  silence,  his  finger-tips  again  joined, 
gazing  upon  the  man  who  had  swallowed  that 
very  alluring  bait  he  had  once  placed  before  him. 

He  realised  by  Sir  Hugh's  manner  that  he 
regretted  his  recent  action  and  was  now  over- 
come by  remorse.  Remorse  meant  exposure,  and 
exposure  meant  prosecution — a  great  public 


Reveals  Temptation  55 

prosecution,  which,  at  all  hazards,  must  not  be 
allowed. 

As  he  sat  there  he  was  actually  calmly  won- 
dering whether  this  fine  old  officer  with  such  a 
brilliant  record  would  die  in  silence  by  his  own 
hand  and  carry  his  secret  to  the  grave,  or  whether 
he  would  leave  behind  some  awkward  written 
statement  which  would  incriminate  himself  and 
those  for  whom  he  acted. 

Suddenly  Sir  Hugh  turned  and,  looking  the 
doctor  squarely  in  the  face  as  though  divining 
his  inmost  thoughts,  said  in  a  hoarse  voice  tremu- 
lous with  emotion :  "  Ah,  you  need  not  trouble 
yourself  further,  Weirmarsh.  I  have  a  big  din- 
ner-party to-night,  but  by  midnight  I  shall  have 
paid  the  penalty  which  you  have  imposed  upon 
me — I  shall  have  ceased  to  live.  I  will  die  rather 
then  serve  you  further!  " 

'  Very  well,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  the  doctor, 
rising  from  his  chair  abruptly.  "  Of  course, 
every  man's  life  is  his  own  property — you  can 
take  it  if  you  think  fit — but  I  assure  you  that  such 
an  event  would  not  concern  me  in  the  least.  I 
have  already  taken  the  precaution  to  appe?  with 
clean  hands — should  occasion  require." 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  WHICH  ENID  OKLEBAE,  IS  PUZZLED 

THAT  night,  around  the  general's  dinner-table  in 
Hill  Street,  a  dozen  or  so  well-known  men  and' 
women  were  assembled. 

Sir  Hugh  Elcombe's  dinners  were  always 
smart  gatherings.  The  table  was  set  with 
Georgian  silver  and  decorated  daintily  with 
flowers,  while  several  of  the  women  wore  splendid 
jewels.  At  the  head  sat  Lady  Elcombe,  a  quiet, 
rather  fragile,  calm-faced  woman  in  black,  whose 
countenance  bore  traces  of  long  suffering,  but 
whose  smile  was  very  sweet. 

Among  the  guests  was  Walter  Fetherston, 
whom  the  general  had  at  last  induced  to  visit 
him,  and  he  had  taken  in  Enid,  who  looked  su- 
perb in  a  cream  decollete  gown,  and  who  wore 
round  her  throat  a  necklet  of  turquoise  matrices, 
admirably  suited  to  her  half -barbaric  beauty. 

Fetherston  had  only  accepted  the  general's 
invitation  at  her  urgent  desire,  for  she  had  writ- 
ten to  White's  telling  him  that  it  was  impera- 
tive they  should  meet — she  wished  to  consult 

66 


In  Which  Enid  Orlebar  is  Puzzled    57 

him;  she  begged  of  him  to  forget  the  interview 
at  Monifieth  and  return  to  her. 

So,  against  his  will,  he  had  gone  there,  though 
the  house  and  all  it  contained  was  hateful  to 
him.  With  that  terrible  secret  locked  within  his 
heart — that  secret  which  gripped  his  very  vitals 
and  froze  his  blood — he  looked  upon  the  scene 
about  him  with  horror  and  disgust.  Indeed,  it 
was  only  by  dint  of  self-control  that  he  could  be 
civil  to  his  host. 

His  fellow-guests  were  of  divers  types:  a 
couple  of  peers  and  their  womenkind,  a  popular 
actor-manager,  two  diplomats,  and  several  mili- 
tary men  of  more  or  less  note — two  of  them, 
like  the  host,  occupying  high  positions  at  the 
War  Office. 

Such  gatherings  were  of  frequent  occurrence 
at  Hill  Street.  It  was  popularly  supposed  that 
Sir  Hugh,  by  marrying  His  Majesty's  Minister's 
widow,  had  married  money,  and  was  thus  able 
to  sustain  the  position  he  did.  Other  military 
men  in  his  position  found  it  difficult  to  make 
both  ends  meet,  and  many  envied  old  Hugh  El- 
combe  and  his  wealthy  wife.  They  were  unaware 
that  Lady  Orlebar,  after  the  settlement  of  her 
husband's  estate,  had  found  herself  with  prac- 
tically nothing,  and  that  her  marriage  to  Sir 
Hugh  had  been  more  to  secure  a  home  than  any- 


58  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

thing  else.  Both  had,  alas!  been  equally  de- 
ceived. The  general,  believing  her  to  be  rich,  had 
been  sadly  disillusioned;  while  she,  on  her  part, 
was  equally  filled  with  alarm  when  he  revealed  to 
her  his  penurious  position. 

The  world,  of  course,  knew  nothing  of  this. 
Sir  Hugh,  ever  since  his  re-marriage,  had  given 
good  dinners  and  had  been  entertained  in  return, 
therefore  everybody  believed  that  he  derived  his 
unusually  large  income  from  his  wife. 

As  he  sat  at  table  he  laughed  and  chatted 
merrily  with  his  guests,  for  on  such  occasions  he 
was  always  good  company.  Different,  indeed, 
was  his  attitude  from  when,  at  noon,  he  had  stood 
with  Weirmarsh  in  his  own  den  and  pronounced 
his  own  fate. 

The  man  who  held  him  in  that  strange  thral- 
dom was  seated  at  the  table.  He  had  been  in- 
vited three  days  ago,  and  had  come  there,  per- 
haps, to  taunt  him  with  his  presence  in  those  the 
last  few  hours  of  his  life. 

Only  once  the  two  men  exchanged  glances, 
for  Weirmarsh  was  devoting  all  his  attention  to 
young  Lady  Stockbridge.  But  when  Sir  Hugh 
encountered  the  doctor's  gaze  he  saw  in  his  eyes 
open  defiance  and  triumph. 

In  ignorance  of  the  keen  interest  which  the 
doctor  across  the  table  felt  in  him,  Walter 


In  Which  Enid  Orlebar  is  Puzzled    59 

Fetherston  sat  chatting  and  laughing  with  Enid. 
Once  the  doctor,  to  whom  he  had  been  introduced 
only  half  an  hour  before,  addressed  a  remark 
to  him  to  which  he  replied,  at  the  same  time  re- 
flecting within  himself  that  Weirmarsh  was  quite 
a  pleasant  acquaintance. 

He  was  unaware  of  that  mysterious  visit  of 
inquiry  to  Monifieth,  of  that  remarkable  cipher 
telegram  afterwards  dispatched  to  Brussels,  or 
even  of  the  extraordinary  influence  that  man  in 
the  well-worn  evening  suit  possessed  over  both  his 
host  and  the  handsome  girl  beside  him. 

When  the  ladies  had  left  the  table  the  doctor 
set  himself  out  over  the  cigarettes  to  become 
more  friendly  with  the  writer  of  fiction.  Then 
afterwards  he  rose,  and  encountering  his  host, 
who  had  also  risen  and  crossed  the  room, 
whispered  in  a  voice  of  command :  '  You  have 
reconsidered  your  decision!  You  will  commit 
no  foolish  and  cowardly  act?  I  see  it  in  your 
face.  I  shall  call  to-morrow  at  noon,  and  we  will 
discuss  the  matter  further." 

The  general  did  not  reply  for  a  few  seconds. 
But  Weirmarsh  had  already  realised  that  reflec- 
tion had  brought  his  victim  to  a  calmer  state  of 
mind. 

"  I  will  not  listen  to  you,"  the  old  man 
growled. 


60  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  But  I  shall  speak  whether  you  listen  or  not. 
Remember,  I  am  not  a  man  to  be  fooled  by  talk. 
I  shall  be  here  at  noon  and  lay  before  you  a 
scheme  perhaps  a  little  more  practicable  than  the 
last  one."  And  with  that  he  reached  for  some 
matches,  turned  upon  his  heel,  and  rejoined  the 
man  against  whom  he  had  warned  Enid — the 
only  man  in  the  world  whom  he  feared. 

Before  they  rose  Weirmarsh  had  ingratiated 
himself  with  his  enemy.  So  clever  was  he  that 
Fetherston,  in  ignorance  as  to  whom  his  fellow- 
guest  really  was,  save  that  he  was  a  member  of 
the  medical  profession,  was  actually  congratulat- 
ing himself  that  he  had  now  met  a  man  after  his 
own  heart. 

At  last  they  repaired  to  the  pretty  old-rose- 
and-gold  drawing-room  upstairs,  an  apartment 
in  which  great  taste  was  displayed  in  decoration, 
and  there  several  of  the  ladies  sang  or  recited. 
One  of  them,  a  vivacious  young  Frenchwoman, 
was  induced  to  give  Barrois's  romance,  "  J'ai  vu 
fleurir  notre  dernier  lilas !  " 

When  she  had  concluded  Enid,  with  whom 
Walter  was  seated,  rose  and  passed  into  the  small 
conservatory,  which  was  prettily  illuminated  with 
fairy  lights.  As  soon  as  they  were  alone  she 
turned  to  him  in  eager  distress,  saying:  "  Walter, 
do,  I  beg  of  you,  beware  of  that  man!  " 


In  Which  Enid  Orlebar  is  Puzzled    61 

"  Of  what  man?  "  he  asked  in  quick  surprise. 

"  Of  Doctor  Weirmarsh." 
'  Why?    I  don't  know  him.    I  never  met  him 
until  to-night.    Who  is  he?  " 

"  My  stepfather's  friend,  but  my  enemy — 
and  yours,"  she  cried  quickly,  placing  her  hand 
upon  her  heart  as  though  to  quell  its  throbbing. 

"  Is  he  well  known?  "  inquired  the  novelist. 

"  No — only  in  Pimlico.  He  lives  in  Vaux- 
hall  Bridge  Road,  and  his  practice  lies  within 
a  radius  of  half  a  mile  of  Victoria  Station." 

"  And  why  is  he  my  enemy?  " 

"  Oh,  that  I  cannot  tell." 

'  Why  is  he  your  stepfather's  friend?  "  asked 
Fetherston.  '  They  certainly  seem  to  be  on  very 
good  terms." 

"  Doctor  Weirmarsh's  cunning  and  ingenuity 
are  unequalled,"  she  declared.     "  Over  me,  as 
over  Sir  Hugh,  he  has  cast  a  kind  of  spell 
a 

Her  companion  laughed.  "  My  dear  Enid," 
he  said,  "  spells  are  fictions  of  the  past;  nobody 
believes  in  them  nowadays.  He  may  possess 
some  influence  over  you,  but  surely  you  are  suffi- 
ciently strong-minded  to  resist  his  power,  what- 
ever it  may  be? " 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  not.  For  that 
reason  I  fear  for  myself — and  for  Sir  Hugh. 


62  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

That  man  compelled  Sir  Hugh  to  take  me  to 
him  for  a  consultation,  and  as  soon  as  I  was  in 
his  presence  I  knew  that  his  will  was  mine — 
that  I  was  powerless." 

"  I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Fetherston, 
much  interested  in  this  latest  psychic  problem. 

"  Neither  do  I  understand  myself,"  she  an- 
swered in  bewilderment.  '  To  me  this  man's 
power,  fascination — whatever  you  may  term  it — 
is  a  complete  mystery." 

"  I  will  investigate  it,"  said  Fetherston 
promptly.  "  What  is  his  address?  " 

She  told  him,  and  he  scribbled  it  upon  his 
shirt-cuff.  Then,  looking  into  her  beautiful  coun- 
tenance, he  asked  :  "  Have  you  no  idea  of  the 
nature  of  this  man's  influence  over  Sir  Hugh? " 

"  None  whatever.  It  is  plain,  however,  that 
he  is  master  over  my  stepfather's  actions.  My 
mother  has  often  remarked  to  me  upon  it,"  was 
her  response.  "  He  comes  here  constantly,  and 
remains  for  hours  closeted  with  Sir  Hugh  in  his 
study.  So  great  is  his  influence  that  he  orders 
our  servants  to  do  his  bidding." 

"  And  he  compelled  Sir  Hugh  to  take  you 
to  his  consulting  room,  eh?  Under  what  pre- 
text? " 

"  I  was  suffering  from  extreme  nervousness, 
and  he  prescribed  for  me  with  beneficial  effect," 


In  Which  Enid  Orlebar  is  Puzzled    63 

she  said.  "  But  ever  since  I  have  felt  myself 
beneath  his  influence  in  a  manner  which  I  am 
utterly  unable  to  describe.  I  do  not  believe  in 
hypnotic  suggestion,  or  it  might  be  put  down  to 
that." 

"  But  what  is  your  theory?  " 

"  I  have  none,  except — well,  except  that  this 
man,  essentially  a  man  of  evil,  possesses  some 
occult  influence  which  other  men  do  not  possess." 

'  Yours  is  not  a  weak  nature,  Enid,"  he  de- 
clared. *  You  are  not  the  sort  of  girl  to  fall  be- 
neath the  influence  of  another." 

"  I  think  not,"  she  laughed  in  reply.  "  And 
yet  the  truth  is  a  hard  and  bitter  one." 

"  Remain  firm  and  determined  to  be  mistress 
of  your  own  actions,"  he  urged,  "  and  in  the 
meantime  I  will  cultivate  the  doctor's  acquain- 
tance and  endeavour  to  investigate  the  cause  of 
this  remarkable  influence  of  his." 

Why  did  Doctor  Weirmarsh  possess  such 
power  over  Sir  Hugh?  he  wondered.  Could  it 
be  that  this  man  was  actually  in  possession  of 
the  truth?  Was  he  aware  of  that  same  terrible 
and  hideous  secret  of  which  he  himself  was  aware 
—a  secret  which,  if  exposed,  would  convulse  the 
whole  country,  so  shameful  and  scandalous 
was  itl 

He  saw  how  pale  and  agitated  Enid  was. 


64  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

She  had  in  her  frantic  anxiety  sought  his  aid. 
Only  a  few  days  ago  they  had  parted;  yet  now, 
in  the  moment  of  her  fear  and  apprehension,  she 
had  recalled  him  to  her  side  to  seek  his  advice 
and  protection. 

She  had  not  told  him  of  that  mysterious 
warning  Weirmarsh  had  given  her  concerning 
him,  or  of  his  accurate  knowledge  of  their  ac- 
quaintanceship. She  had  purposely  refrained 
from  telling  him  this  lest  her  words  should  unduly 
prejudice  him.  She  had  warned  Walter  that 
the  doctor  was  his  enemy — this,  surely,  was 
sufficient! 

;<  Try  and  discover,  if  you  can,  the  reason  of 
the  doctor's  power  over  my  father,  and  why  he 
is  for  ever  directing  his  actions,"  urged  the  girl. 
"  For  myself  I  care  little ;  it  is  for  Sir  Hugh's 
sake  that  I  am  trying  to  break  the  bonds,  if 
possible." 

*  You  have  no  suspicion  of  the  reason? "  he 
repeated,  looking  seriously  into  her  face.  '  You 
do  not  think  that  he  holds  some  secret  of  your 
stepfather's?  Undue  influence  can  frequently 
be  traced  to  such  a  source." 

She  shook  her  head  in  the  negative,  a  blank 
look  in  her  great,  dark  eyes. 

'  No,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  all  a  mystery — one 
which  I  beg  of  you,  Walter,  to  solve,  and  " — she 


In  Which  Enid  Orlebar  is  Puzzled    65 

faltered  in  a  strange  voice — "  and  to  save  me !  " 
He  pressed  her  hand  and  gave  her  his 
promise.  Then  for  a  second  she  raised  her  full 
red  lips  to  his,  and  together  they  passed  back  into 
the  drawing-room,  where  their  re-entry  in  com- 
pany did  not  escape  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  lonely 
doctor  of  Pimlico. 


CHAPTER  VI 

BENEATH  THE  ELASTIC  BAND 

WALTER  FETHERSTON  strolled  back  that  night  to 
the  dingy  chambers  he  rented  in  Holies  Street, 
off  Oxford  Street,  as  a  pied-a-terre  when  in  Lon- 
don. He  was  full  of  apprehension,  full  of  curi- 
osity, as  to  who  this  Doctor  Weirmarsh  could  be. 

He  entered  his  darkling,  shabby  old  third- 
floor  room  and  threw  himself  into  the  arm-chair 
before  the  fire  to  think.  It  was  a  room  with- 
out beauty,  merely  walls,  repapered  once  every 
twenty  years,  and  furniture  of  the  mid- Victorian 
era.  The  mantelshelf  in  the  bedroom  still  bore 
stains  from  the  medicine  bottles  which  consoled 
the  final  hours  of  the  last  tenant,  a  man  about 
whom  a  curious  story  was  told. 

It  seems  that  he  found  a  West  End  anchor- 
age there,  not  when  he  had  retired,  but  when  he 
was  in  the  very  prime  of  life.  He  never  told 
anyone  that  he  was  single;  at  the  same  time  he 
never  told  anyone  he  was  married.  He  just  came 
and  rented  those  three  rooms,  and  there  his  man 
brought  him  his  tea  at  ten  o'clock  every  morning 

66 


Beneath  the  Elastic  Band          67 

for  thirty  years.  Then  he  dressed  himself  and 
Went  round  to  the  Devonshire,  in  St.  James's 
Street,  and  there  remained  till  closing  time,  at 
two  o'clock,  every  morning  for  thirty  years. 
When  his  club  closed  in  the  dog-days  for  re- 
pairs he  went  to  the  club  which  received  him. 
He  never  went  out  of  town.  He  never  slept  a 
night  away.  He  never  had  a  visitor.  He  never 
received  a  letter,  and,  so  far  as  his  man  was 
aware,  never  wrote  one. 

One  morning  he  did  not  go  through  his  usual 
programme.  The  doctor  was  called,  but  during 
the  next  fortnight  he  died. 

Within  twelve  hours,  however,  his  widow  and 
a  family  of  grown-up  children  arrived,  pleasant, 
cheerful,  inquisitive  people,  who  took  away  with 
them  everything  portable,  greatly  to  the  chagrin 
of  the  devoted  old  manservant  who  had  been  the 
tenant's  single  home-tie  for  thirty  years. 

It  was  these  selfsame,  dull,  monotonous  cham- 
bers which  Walter  occupied.  The  old  man- 
servant was  the  selfsame  man  who  had  so  de- 
votedly served  the  previous  tenant.  They  suited 
Walter's  purpose,  for  he  was  seldom  in  London, 
so  old  Hayden  had  the  place  to  himself  for  many 
months  every  year.  Of  all  the  inhabitants  of 
London  chambers  those  are  the  most  lonely  who 
never  wander  away  from  London.  But  Walter 


68  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

was  ever  wandering,  therefore  he  never  noticed 
the  shabbiness  of  the  carpet,  the  dinginess  of 
the  furniture,  or  the  dispiriting  gloom  of  every- 
thing. 

Like  the  previous  tenant,  Walter  had  no 
visitors  and  was  mostly  out  all  day.  At  evening 
he  would  write  at  the  dusty  old  bureau  in  which 
the  late  tenant  had  kept  locked  his  family  treas- 
ures, or  sit  in  the  deep,  old  horsehair-covered 
chair  with  his  feet  upon  the  fender,  as  he  did  that 
night  after  returning  from  Hill  Street. 

The  only  innovation  in  those  grimy  rooms 
was  a  good-sized  fireproof  safe  which  stood  in  the 
corner  hidden  by  a  side-table,  and  from  this  Wal- 
ter had  taken  a  bundle  of  papers  and  carried 
them  with  him  to  his  chair. 

One  by  one  he  carefully  went  through  them, 
until  at  last  he  found  the  document  of  which  he 
was  in  search. 

'  Yes,"  he  exclaimecl  to  himself  after  he  had 
scanned  it,  "  so  I  was  not  mistaken  after  all! 
The  mystery  is  deeper  than  I  thought.  By  Jove ! 
that  fellow,  Joseph  Blot,  alias  Weirmarsh,  alias 
Detmold,  Ponting  and  half  a  dozen  other  names, 
no  doubt,  is  playing  a  deep  game — a  dangerous 
customer  evidently! " 

Then,  again  returning  to  the  safe,  he  took 
out  a  large  packet  of  miscellaneous  photographs 


Beneath  the  Elastic  Band          69 

of  various  persons  secured  by  an  elastic  band. 
These  he  went  rapidly  through  until  he  held  one 
in  his  hand,  an  unmounted  carte-de-visite,  which 
he  examined  closely  beneath  the  green-shaded 
reading-lamp. 

It  was  a  portrait  of  Doctor  Weirmarsh,  evi- 
dently taken  a  few  years  before,  as  he  then  wore 
a  short  pointed  beard,  whereas  he  was  now  shaven 
except  for  a  moustache. 

"  No  mistake  about  those  features,"  he  re- 
marked to  himself  with  evident  satisfaction  as, 
turning  the  photographic  print,  he  took  note  of 
certain  cabalistic  numbers  written  in  the  corner, 
scribbling  them  in  pencil  upon  his  blotting-pad. 

"  I  thought  I  recollected  those  curious  eyes 
and  that  unusual  breadth  of  forehead,"  he  went 
on,  speaking  to  himself,  and  again  examining  the 
pictured  face  through  his  gold  pince-nez.  "  It's 
a  long  time  since  I  looked  at  this  photograph- 
fully  five  years.  What  would  the  amiable  doc- 
tor think  if  he  knew  that  I  held  the  key  which 
will  unlock  his  past?  " 

He  laughed  lightly  to  himself,  and,  select- 
ing a  cigarette  from  the  silver  box,  lit  it. 

Then  he  sat  back  in  his  big  arm-chair,  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire,  contemplating  what  he 
realised  to  be  a  most  exciting  and  complicated 
problem. 


70  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  This  means  that  I  must  soon  be  upon  the 
move  again,"  he  murmured  to  himself.  "  Enid 
has  sought  my  assistance — she  has  asked  me  to 
save  her,  and  I  will  exert  my  utmost  endeavour 
to  do  so.  But  I  see  it  will  be  difficult,  very  diffi- 
cult. She  is,  no  doubt,  utterly  unaware  of  the 
real  identity  of  this  brisk,  hard-working  doctor. 
And  perhaps,  after  all,"  he  added  slowly,  "  it  is 
best  so — best  that  she  remain  in  ignorance  of  this 
hideous,  ghastly  truth !  " 

At  that  same  moment,  while  Walter  Fether- 
ston  was  preoccupied  by  these  curious  apprehen- 
sions, the  original  of  that  old  carte-de-visite  was 
seated  in  the  lounge  of  the  Savoy  Hotel,  smok- 
ing a  cigar  with  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  red- 
bearded  man  who  was  evidently  a  foreigner. 

He  had  left  Hill  Street  five  minutes  after 
Fetherston,  and  driven  down  to  the  Savoy,  where 
he  had  a  rendezvous  for  supper  with  his  friend. 
That  he  was  an  habitue  there  was  patent  from 
the  fact  that  upon  entering  the  restaurant,  Al- 
phonse,  the  mcdtre  d'hotel,  with  his  plan  of  the 
tables  pinned  upon  the  board,  greeted  him  with, 
"  Ah!  good  evening,  Docteur.  Table  vingt-six5 
Docteur  Weirmarsh." 

The  scene  was  the  same  as  it  is  every  evening 
at  the  Savoy;  the  music,  the  smart  dresses  of  the 
women,  the  flowers,  the  shaded  lights,  the  chatter 


I 

Beneath  the  Elastic  Band         71 

and  the  irresponsible  laughter  of  the  London 
world  amusing  itself  after  the  stress  of  war. 

You  know  it — why,  therefore,  should  I  de- 
scribe it?  Providing  you  possess  an  evening  suit 
or  a  low-necked  dress,  you  can  always  rub 
shoulders  with  the  monde  and  the  demi-monde  of 
London  at  a  cost  of  a  few  shillings  a  head. 

The  two  men  had  supped  and  were  chatting 
in  French  over  their  coffee  and  "  triplesec." 
Gustav,  Weirmarsh  called  his  friend,  and  from 
his  remarks  it  was  apparent  that  he  was  a  stran- 
ger to  London.  He  was  dressed  with  elegance. 
Upon  the  corner  of  his  white  lawn  handkerchief 
a  count's  coronet  was  embroidered,  and  upon  his 
cigar-case  also  was  a  coronet  and  a  cipher.  In 
his  dress-shirt  he  wore  a  fine  diamond,  while  upon 
the  little  finger  of  his  left  hand  glittered  a  similar 
stone  of  great  lustre. 

The  lights  were  half  extinguished,  and  a 
porter's  voice  cried,  "  Time's  up,  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen ! "  Those  who  were  not  habitues  rose 
and  commenced  to  file  out,  but  the  men  and 
women  who  came  to  the  restaurant  each  night 
sat  undisturbed  till  the  lights  went  up  again 
and  another  ten  minutes  elapsed  before  the  final 
request  to  leave  was  made. 

The  pair,  seated  away  in  a  corner,  had  been 
chatting  in  an  undertone  when  they  were  com- 


72  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

pelled  to  rise.  Thereupon  the  doctor  insisted 
that  his  friend,  whose  name  was  Gustav  Heureux, 
should  accompany  him  home.  So  twenty  minutes 
later  they  alighted  from  a  taxi-cab  in  the  Vaux- 
hall  Bridge  Road,  and  entered  the  shabby  lit- 
tle room  wherein  Weirmarsh  schemed  and 
plotted. 

The  doctor  produced  from  a  cupboard  some 
cognac  and  soda  and  a  couple  of  glasses,  and 
when  they  had  lit  cigars  they  sat  down  to  resume 
their  chat. 

Alone  there,  the  doctor  spoke  in  English. 

*  You  see,"  he  explained,  "  it  is  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  importance — if  we  make  this  coup 
we  can  easily  make  a  hundred  thousand  pounds 
within  a  fortnight.  The  general  at  first  refused 
and  became  a  trifle — well,  just  a  trifle  resentful, 
even  vindictive ;  but  by  showing  a  bold  front  I've 
brought  him  round.  To-morrow  I  shall  clinch 
the  matter.  That  is  my  intention." 

"  It  will  be  a  brilliant  snap,  if  you  can  actually 
accomplish  it,"  was  the  red-bearded  man's  en- 
thusiastic reply.  He  now  spoke  in  English,  but 
with  a  strong  American  accent.  "  I  made  an 
attempt  two  years  ago,  but  failed,  and  narrowly 
escaped  imprisonment." 

"  A  dozen  attempts  have  already  been  made, 
but  all  in  vain,"  replied  the  doctor,  drawing  hard 


Beneath  the  Elastic  Band         73 

at  his  cigar.  '  Therefore,  I'm  all  the  more  keen 
to  secure  success." 

'  You  certainly  have  been  very  successful 
over  here,  Doctor,"  observed  the  foreigner,  whose 
English  had  been  acquired  in  America.  '  We 
have  heard  of  you  in  New  York,  where  you  are 
upheld  to  us  as  a  model.  Jensen  once  told  me 
that  your  methods  were  so  ingenious  as  to  be 
unassailable." 

"  Merely  because  I  am  well  supplied  with 
funds,"  answered  the  other  with  modesty. 
"  Here,  in  England,  as  elsewhere,  any  man  or 
woman  can  be  bought — if  you  pay  their  price. 
There  is  only  one  section  of  the  wonderful  British 
public  who  cannot  be  purchased — the  men  and 
women  who  are  in  love  with  each  other.  When- 
ever I  come  up  against  Cupid,  experience  has 
taught  me  to  retire  deferentially,  and  wait  until 
the  love- fever  has  abated.  It  often  turns  to  jeal- 
ousy or  hatred,  and  then  the  victims  fall  as 
easily  as  off  a  log.  A  jealous  woman  will  betray 
any  secret,  even  though  it  may  hurry  her  lover 
to  his  grave.  To  me,  my  dear  Gustav,  this 
fevered  world  of  London  is  all  very  amusing." 

"  And  your  profession  as  doctor  must  serve 
as  a  most  excellent  mask.  Who  would  suspect 
you — a  lonely  bachelor  in  such  quarters  as 
these?  "  exclaimed  his  visitor. 


74  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  No  one  does  suspect  me,"  laughed  the  doctor 
with  assurance.  "  Safety  lies  in  pursuing  my  in- 
creasing practice,  and  devoting  all  my  spare  time 
to — well,  to  my  real  profession."  He  flicked  the 
ash  off  his  cigar  as  he  spoke. 

"  Your  friend,  Elcombe,  will  have  to  be  very 
careful.  The  peril  is  considerable  in  that 
quarter." 

"  I  know  that  full  well.  But  if  he  failed  it 
would  be  he  who  would  suffer — not  I.  As  usual, 
I  do  not  appear  in  the  affair  at  all." 

"  That  is  just  where  you  are  so  intensely 
clever  and  ingenious,"  declared  Heureux.  '  In 
New  York  they  speak  of  you  as  a  perfect  marvel 
of  foresight  and  clever  evasion." 

"  It  is  simply  a  matter  of  exercising  one's 
wits,"  Weirmarsh  laughed  lightly.  "  I  always 
complete  my  plans  with  great  care  before  em- 
barking upon  them,  and  I  make  provision  for 
every  contretemps  possible.  It  is  the  only  way, 
if  one  desires  success." 

"  And  you  have  had  success,"  remarked  his 
companion.  "  Marked  success  in  everything  you 
have  attempted.  In  New  York  we  have  not  been 
nearly  so  fortunate.  Those  three  articles  in  the 
New  York  Sim  put  the  public  on  their  guard,  so 
that  we  dare  not  attempt  any  really  bold  move 
for  fear  of  detection." 


Beneath  the  Elastic  Band         75 

'  You  have  worked  a  little  too  openly,  I 
think,"  was  Weirmarsh's  reply.  "  But  now  that 
you  have  been  sent  to  assist  me,  you  will  prob- 
ably see  that  my  methods  differ  somewhat  from 
those  of  John  Willoughby.  Remember,  he  has 
just  the  same  amount  of  money  placed  at  his  dis- 
posal as  I  have." 

"  And  he  is  not  nearly  so  successful,"  Heu- 
reux  replied.  "  Perhaps  it  is  because  Americans 
are  not  so  easily  befooled  as  the  English." 

"  And  yet  America  is,  par  excellence,  the 
country  of  bluff,  of  quackery  in  patent  medicines, 
and  of  the  booming  of  unworthy  persons,"  the 
doctor  laughed. 

"It  is  fortunate,  Doctor,  that  the  public  are 
in  ignorance  of  the  real  nature  of  our  work,  isn't 
it,  eh?  Otherwise,  you  and  I  might  experience 
rather  rough  handling  if  this  house  were 
mobbed." 

Weirmarsh  smiled  grimly.  "  My  dear  Gus- 
tav,"  he  laughed,  "  the  British  public,  though  of 
late  they've  browsed  upon  the  hysterics  of  the 
popular  Press,  are  already  asleep  again.  It  is 
not  for  us  to  arouse  them.  We  profit  by  their 
heavy  slumber,  and  this  will  be  a  rude  awakening 
— a  shock,  depend  upon  it." 

"  We  were  speaking  of  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe," 


76  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

remarked  the  other.  "  He  has  been  of  use  to 
us,  eh?" 

"  Of  considerable  use,  but  his  usefulness  is 
all  but  ended,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  He  will  go 
to  France  before  long,  if  he  does  not  act  as  I 
direct." 

"  Into  a  veritable  hornet's  nest! "  exclaimed 
the  red-bearded  man.  He  recognised  a  strange 
expression  upon  the  doctor's  face,  and  added, 
"  Ah,  I  see.  This  move  is  intentional,  eh?  He 
has  served  our  purpose,  and  you  now  deem  it 
wise  that — er — disaster  should  befall  him  across 
the  Channel,  eh?" 

The  doctor  smiled  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  the  girl  you  spoke  of,  Enid  Orlebar?  " 

"  The  girl  will  share  the  same  fate  as  her  step- 
father," was  Weirmarsh's  hard  response.  '  We 
cannot  risk  betrayal." 

"  Then  she  knows  something?  " 

"  She  may  or  she  may  not.  In  any  case,  how- 
ever, she  constitutes  a  danger,  a  grave  danger, 
tkat  must,  at  all  costs,  be  removed."  And  look- 
ing into  the  other's  face,  he  added,  "  You  under- 
stand me?" 

"  Perfectly." 

Just  before  two  o'clock  Gustav  Heureux  left 
the  frowsy  house  in  Vauxhall  Bridge  Road  and 


Beneath  the  Elastic  Band          77 

walked  through  the  silent  street  into  Victoria 
Street. 

He  was  unaware,  however,  that  on  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  road  an  ill-dressed  man  had  for  a 
full  hour  been  lurking  in  a  doorway,  or  that  when 
he  came  down  the  doctor's  steps,  the  mysterious 
midnight  watcher  strolled  noiselessly  after  him. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CONCERNING  THE   VELVET   HAND 

ON  the  rising  ground  half-way  between  Wim- 
borne  and  Poole,  in  Dorsetshire,  up  a  narrow  by- 
road which  leads  to  the  beautiful  woods,  lies  the 
tiny  hamlet  of  Idsworth,  a  secluded  little  place 
of  about  forty  inhabitants,  extremely  rural  and 
extremely  picturesque. 

Standing  alone  half-way  up  the  hill,  and  sur- 
rounded by  trees,  was  an  old-world  thatched  cot- 
tage, half-timbered,  with  high,  red-brick  chim- 
neys, quaint  gables  and  tiny  dormer  windows — 
a  delightful  old  Elizabethan  house  with  a  com- 
fortable, homely  look.  Behind  it  a  well-kept 
flower  garden,  with  a  tree-fringed  meadow  be- 
yond, while  the  well-rolled  gravelled  walks,  the 
rustic  fencing,  and  the  pretty  curtains  at  the  case- 
ments betrayed  the  fact  that  the  rustic  home- 
stead was  not  the  residence  of  a  villager. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  it  belonged  to  a  Mr.  John 
Maltwood,  a  bachelor,  whom  Idsworth  believed 
to  be  in  business  in  London,  and  who  came  there 
at  intervals  for  fresh  air  and  rest.  His  visits 

78 


Concerning  the  Velvet  Hand      79 

were  not  very  frequent.  Sometimes  he  would  be 
absent  for  many  months,  and  at  others  he  would 
remain  there  for  weeks  at  a  time,  with  a  cheery 
word  always  for  the  labourers  on  their  way  home 
from  work,  and  always  with  his  hand  in  his  pocket 
in  the  cause  of  charity. 

John  Maltwood,  the  quiet,  youngish-looking 
man  in  the  gold  pince-nez,  was  popular  every- 
where over  the  country-side.  He  did  not  court 
the  society  of  the  local  parsons  and  their  wives, 
nor  did  he  return  any  of  the  calls  made  upon 
him.  His  excuse  was  that  he  was  at  Idsworth 
for  rest,  and  not  for  social  duties.  This  very  in- 
dependence of  his  endeared  him  to  the  villagers, 
who  always  spoke  of  him  as  "one  of  the  right 
sort." 

At  noon  on  the  day  following  the  dinner  at 
Hill  Street,  Walter  Fetherston — known  at  Ids- 
worth  as  Mr.  Maltwood — alighted  from  the  sta- 
tion fly,  and  was  met  at  the  cottage  gate  by  the 
smiling,  pleasant-faced  woman  in  a  clean  apron 
who  acted  as  caretaker. 

He  divested  himself  of  his  overcoat  in  the 
tiny  entrance-hall,  passed  into  a  small  room,  with 
the  great  open  hearth,  where  in  days  long  ago  the 
bacon  was  smoked,  and  along  a  passage  into  the 
long,  old-world  dining-room,  with  its  low  ceiling 
with  great  dark  beams,  its  solemn-ticking,  brass- 


8o  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

faced  grandfather  clock,  and  its  profusion  of  old 
blue  china. 

There  he  gave  some  orders  to  Mrs.  Deacon, 
obtained  a  cigarette,  and  passed  back  along  the 
passage  to  a  small,  cosy,  panelled  room  at  the 
end  of  the  house — the  room  wherein  he  wrote 
those  mystery  stories  which  held  the  world  en- 
thralled. 

It  was  a  pretty,  restful  place,  with  a  moss- 
green  carpet,  green-covered  chairs,  several  cases 
filled  to  overflowing  with  books,  and  a  great 
writing-table  set  in  the  window.  On  the  mantel- 
shelf were  many  autographed  portraits  of  Con- 
tinental celebrities,  while  on  the  walls  were  one 
or  two  little  gems  of  antique  art  which  he  had 
picked  up  on  his  erratic  wanderings.  Over  the 
writing-table  was  a  barometer  and  a  storm-glass, 
while  to  the  left  a  cosy  corner  extended  round 
to  the  fireplace. 

He  lit  his  cigarette,  then  walking  across  to  a 
small  square  oaken  door  let  into  the  wall  beside 
the  fireplace,  he  opened  it  with  a  key.  This  had 
been  an  oven  before  the  transformation  of  three 
cottages  into  a  week-end  residence,  and  on  open- 
ing it  there  was  displayed  the  dark-green  door  of 
a  safe.  This  he  quickly  opened  with  another  key, 
and  after  slight  search  took  out  a  small  ledger 
covered  with  dark-red  leather. 


Concerning  the  Velvet  Hand      81 

Then  glancing  at  some  numerals  upon  a  piece 
of  paper  he  took  from  his  vest  pocket,  he  turned 
them  up  in  the  index,  and  with  another  volume 
open  upon  his  blotting-pad,  he  settled  himself  to 
read  the  record  written  there  in  a  small,  round 
hand.  The  numbers  were  those  upon  the  back  of 
the  old  carte-de-visite  which  had  interested  him  so 
keenly,  and  the  statement  he  was  reading  was, 
from  the  expression  upon  his  countenance,  an 
amazing  one. 

From  time  to  time  he  scribbled  memoranda 
upon  the  scrap  of  paper,  now  and  then  pausing 
as  though  to  recall  the  past.  Then,  when  he  had 
finished,  he  laughed  softly  to  himself,  and,  closing 
the  book,  replaced  it  in  the  safe  and  shut  the 
oaken  door.  By  the  inspection  of  that  secret 
entry  he  had  learnt  much  regarding  that  man  who 
posed  as  a  doctor  in  Pimlico. 

He  sat  back  in  his  writing-chair  and  puffed 
thoughtfully  at  his  cigarette.  Then  he  turned  his 
attention  to  a  pile  of  letters  addressed  to  him  as 
"  Mr.  Maltwood,"  and  made  some  scribbled  re- 
plies until  Mrs.  Deacon  entered  to  announce  that 
his  luncheon  was  ready. 

When  he  went  back  to  the  quaint,  old-fash- 
ioned dining-room  and  seated  himself,  he  said: 
"  I'm  going  back  by  the  five-eighteen,  and  I  dare 
say  I  shan't  return  for  quite  a  month  or  perhaps 


82  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

six  weeks.  Here's  a  cheque  for  ten  pounds  to 
pay  these  little  bills."  And  he  commenced  his 
solitary  meal. 

"  You  haven't  been  here  much  this  summer, 
sir,"  remarked  the  good  woman.  "  In  Idsworth 
they  think  you've  quite  deserted  us — Mr.  Barnes 
was  only  saying  so  last  week.  They're  all  so  glad 
to  see  you  down  here,  sir." 

"  That's  very  good  of  them,  Mrs.  Deacon," 
he  laughed.  "  I,  too,  only  wish  I  could  spend 
more  time  here.  I  love  the  country,  and  I'm 
never  so  happy  as  when  wandering  in  Idsworth 
woods." 

And  then  he  asked  her  to  tell  him  the  village 
gossip  while  she  waited  at  his  table. 

After  luncheon  he  put  on  a  rough  suit  and, 
taking  his  stout  holly  stick,  went  for  a  ramble 
through  the  great  woods  he  loved  so  well,  where 
the  trees  were  tinted  by  autumn  and  the  pheas- 
ants were  strong  upon  the  wing. 

He  found  Findlay,  one  of  the  keepers,  and 
walked  with  him  for  an  hour  as  far  as  the  Roman 
camp,  where  alone  he  sat  down  upon  a  felled 
tree  and,  with  his  gaze  fixed  across  the  distant 
hills  towards  the  sea,  pondered  deeply.  He  loved 
his  modest  country  cottage,  and  he  loved  those 
quiet,  homely  Dorsetshire  folk  around  him.  Yet 
such  a  wanderer  was  he  that  only  a  few  months 


Concerning  the  Velvet  Hand      83 

each  year — the  months  he  wrote  those  wonderful 
romances  of  his — could  he  spend  in  that  old- 
fashioned  cottage  which  he  had  rendered  the  very 
acme  of  cosiness  and  comfort. 

At  half-past  four  the  rickety  station  fly  called 
for  him,  and  later  he  left  by  the  express  which 
took  him  to  Waterloo  and  his  club  in  time  for 
dinner. 

And  so  once  again  he  changed  his  identity 
from  John  Maltwood,  busy  man  of  business,  to 
Walter  Fetherston,  novelist  and  traveller. 

The  seriousness  of  what  was  in  progress  was 
now  plain  to  him.  He  had  long  been  filled  with 
strong  suspicions,  and  these  suspicions  had  been 
confirmed  both  by  Enid's  statements  and  his  own 
observations;  therefore  he  was  already  alert  and 
watchful. 

At  ten  o'clock  he  went  to  his  gloomy  cham- 
bers for  an  hour,  and  then  strolled  forth  to  the 
Vauxhall  Bridge  Road,  and  remained  vigilant 
outside  the  doctor's  house  until  nearly  two. 

He  noted  those  who  came  and  went — two  men 
who  called  before  midnight,  and  were  evidently 
foreigners.  They  came  separately,  remained 
about  half  an  hour,  and  then  Weirmarsh  himself 
let  them  out,  shaking  hands  with  them  effusively. 

Suddenly  a  taxicab  drove  up,  and  from  it 
Sir  Hugh,  in  black  overcoat  and  opera  hat, 


84  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

stepped  out  and  was  at  once  admitted,  the  taxi 
driving  off.  Walter,  as  he  paced  up  and  down 
the  pavement  outside,  would  have  given  much 
to  know  what  was  transpiring  within. 

Had  he  been  able  to  glance  inside  that  shabby 
little  back  room  he  would  have  witnessed  a 
strange  scene — Sir  Hugh,  the  gallant  old  soldier, 
crushed  and  humiliated  by  the  man  who  practised 
medicine,  and  who  called  himself  Weirmarsh. 

"  I  had  only  just  come  in  from  the  theatre 
when  you  telephoned  me,"  Sir  Hugh  said  sharply 
on  entering.  "  I  am  sorry  I  could  make  no  ap- 
pointment to-day,  but  I  was  at  the  War  Office 
all  the  morning,  lunched  at  the  Carlton,  and  was 
afterwards  quite  full  up." 

"  There  was  no  immediate  hurry,  Sir  Hugh," 
responded  the  doctor  with  a  pleasant  smile.  "  I 
quite  understand  that  your  many  social  engage- 
ments prevented  you  from  seeing  me.  I  should 
have  been  round  at  noon,  only  I  was  called  out 
to  an  urgent  case.  Therefore  no  apology  is 
needed — by  either  of  us."  Then,  after  a  pause, 
he  looked  sharply  at  the  man  seated  before  him 
and  asked :  "  I  presume  you  have  reconsidered 
your  decision,  General,  and  will  carry  out  my 
request?  " 

"  No,  I  have  not  decided  to  do  that,"  was  the 
old  fellow's  firm  answer.  "  It's  too  dangerous  an 


Concerning  the  Velvet  Hand      85 

exploit — far  too  dangerous.  Besides,  it  means 
ruin." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  remarked  the  doctor,  "  you 
are  viewing  the  matter  in  quite  a  wrong  light. 
There  will  be  no  suspicion  providing  you  exer- 
cise due  caution." 

"  And  what  would  be  the  use  of  that,  pray, 
when  my  secret  will  not  be  mine  alone?  It  is 
already  known  to  half  a  dozen  other  persons — 
your  friends — any  of  whom  might  give  me  away." 

"  It  will  not  be  known  until  afterwards — 
when  you  are  safe.  Therefore,  there  will  be  abso- 
lutely no  risk,"  the  doctor  assured  him. 

The  other,  however,  was  no  fool,  and  was  still 
unconvinced.  He  knew  well  that  to  carry  out 
the  request  made  by  Weirmarsh  involved  con- 
siderable risk. 

The  doctor  spoke  quietly,  but  very  firmly. 
In  his  demands  he  was  always  inexorable.  He 
had  already  hinted  at  the  disaster  which  might 
fall  upon  Sir  Hugh  if  he  refused  to  obey.  Weir- 
marsh  was,  the  general  knew  from  bitter  experi- 
ence, not  a  man  to  be  trifled  with. 

Completely  and  irrevocably  he  was  in  this 
man's  hands.  During  the  past  twenty-four  hours 
the  grave  old  fellow,  who  had  faced  death  a  hun- 
dred times,  had  passed  through  a  crisis  of  agony 
and  despair.  He  hated  himself,  and  would  even 


86  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

have  welcomed  death,  would  have  courted  it  at 
his  own  hands,  had  not  these  jeers  of  the  doctor's 
rung  in  his  ears.  And,  after  all,  he  had  decided 
that  suicide  was  only  a  coward's  death.  The  man 
who  takes  his  own  life  to  avoid  exposure  is  always 
despised  by  his  friends. 

So  he  had  lived,  and  had  come  down  there  in 
response  to  the  doctor's  request  over  the  tele- 
phone, resolved  to  face  the  music,  if  for  the  last 
time. 

He  sat  in  the  shabby  old  arm-chair  and  firmly 
refused  to  carry  out  the  doctor's  suggestion.  But 
Weirmarsh,  with  his  innate  cunning,  presented  to. 
him  a  picture  of  exposure  and  degradation  which 
held  him  horrified. 

"  I  should  have  thought,  Sir  Hugh,  that  in 
face  of  what  must  inevitably  result  you  would 
not  risk  exposure,"  he  said.  "  Of  course,  it  lies 
with  you  entirely,"  he  added  with  an  unconcerned 
air. 

"  I'm  thinking  of  my  family,"  the  old  officer 
said  slowly. 

"  Of  the  disgrace  if  the  truth  were  known, 
eh?" 

"No;  of  the  suspicion,  nay,  ruin  and  im- 
prisonment, that  would  fall  upon  another  per- 
son," replied  Sir  Hugh. 

"  No  suspicion  can  be  aroused  if  you  are 


Concerning  the  Velvet  Hand      87 

ful,  I  repeat,"  exclaimed  Weirmarsh  impatiently. 
"  Not  a  breath  of  suspicion  has  ever  fallen  upon 
you  up  to  the  present,  has  it?  No,  because  you 
have  exercised  foresight  and  have  followed  to 
the  letter  the  plans  I  made.  I  ask  you,  when  you 
have  followed  my  advice  have  you  ever  gone 
wrong — have  you  ever  taken  one  false  step  ?  " 

"  Never — since  the  first,"  replied  the  old 
soldier  in  a  hard,  bitter  tone. 

*  Then  I  urge  you  to  continue  to  follow  the 
advice  I  give  you,  namely,  to  agree  to  the  terms." 

"  And  who  will  be  aware  of  the  matter? " 

"  Only  myself,"  was  Weirmarsh's  reply. 
"  And  I  think  that  you  may  trust  a  secret  with 
me?" 

The  old  man  made  no  reply,  and  the  crafty 
doctor  wondered  whether  by  silence  he  very  re- 
luctantly gave  his  consent. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PAUL  LE  PONTOIS 

THERE  is  in  the  far  north-west  of  France  a  broad, 
white  highway  which  runs  from  Chalons,  crosses 
the  green  Meuse  valley,  mounts  the  steep,  high, 
tree-fringed  lands  of  the  Cotes  Lorraines,  and 
goes  almost  straight  as  an  arrow  across  what 
was,  before  the  war,  the  German  frontier  at 
Mars-la-Tour  into  quaint  old  Metz,  that  town 
with  ancient  streets,  musical  chimes,  and  sad 
monument  to  Frenchmen  who  fell  in  the  disas- 
trous never-to-be-forgotten  war  of  '70. 

This  road  has  ever  been  one  of  the  most 
strongly  guarded  highways  in  the  world,  for, 
between  the  Moselle,  at  Metz,  and  the  Meuse,  the 
country  is  a  flat  plain  smiling  under  cultivation, 
with  vines  and  cornfields  everywhere,  and  com- 
fortable little  homesteads  of  the  peasantry.  This 
was  once  the  great  battlefield  whereon  Gravelotte 
was  fought  long  ago,  and  where  the  Prussians 
swept  back  the  French  like  chaff  before  the  wind, 
and  where  France,  later  on,  defeated  the  Crown 
Prince's  army.  The  peasants,  in  ploughing, 


Paul  Le  Pontois  89 

daily  turn  up  a  rusty  bayonet,  a  rotting  gun- 
stock,  a  skull,  a  thigh-bone,  or  some  other  hideous 
relic  of  those  black  days;  while  the  old  men  in 
their  blouses  sit  of  nights  smoking  and  telling 
thrilling  stories  of  the  ferocity  of  that  helmeted 
enemy  from  yonder  across  the  winding  Moselle. 
In  recent  days  it  has  been  again  devastated  by 
the  great  world  war,  as  its  gaunt  ruins  mutely 
tell. 

That  road,  with  its  long  line  of  poplars,  after 
crossing  the  ante-war  French  border,  runs 
straight  for  twenty  kilometres  towards  the  ab- 
rupt range  of  high  hills  which  form  the  natural 
frontier  of  France,  and  then,  at  Haudiomont,  en- 
ters a  narrow  pass,  over  twelve  kilometres  long, 
before  it  reaches  the  broad  valley  of  the  Meuse. 
This  pass  was,  before  1914,  one  of  the  four  prin- 
cipal gateways  into  France  from  Germany,  The 
others  are  all  within  a  short  distance,  fifteen  kilo- 
metres or  so — at  Commercy,  which  is  an  impor- 
tant sous-prefecture,  at  Apremont,  and  at  Eix. 
All  have  ever  been  strongly  guarded,  but  that  at 
Haudiomont  was  most  impregnable  of  them  all. 

Before  1914  great  forts  in  which  were 
mounted  the  most  modern  and  the  most  destruc- 
tive artillery  ever  devised  by  man,  commanded 
the  whole  country  far  beyond  the  Moselle  into 
Germany.  Every  hill-top  bristled  with  them, 


90  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

smaller  batteries  were  in  every  coign  of  vantage, 
while  those  narrow  mountain  passes  could  also  be 
closed  at  any  moment  by  being  blown  up  when 
the  signal  was  given  against  the  Hun  invaders. 

On  the  German  side  were  many  fortresses,  but 
none  was  so  strong  as  these,  for  the  efforts  of  the 
French  Ministry  of  War  had,  ever  since  the  fall 
of  Napoleon  III.,  been  directed  towards  render- 
ing the  Cotes  Lorraines  impassable. 

As  one  stands  upon  the  road  outside  the  tiny 
hamlet  of  Harville — a  quaint  but  half -destroyed 
little  place  consisting  of  one  long  street  of  ruined 
whitewashed  houses — and  looks  towards  the  hills 
eastward,  low  concrete  walls  can  be  seen,  half 
hidden,  but  speaking  mutely  of  the  withering 
storm  of  shell  that  had,  in  1914,  burst  from  them 
and  swept  the  land. 

Much  can  be  seen  of  that  chain  of  damaged 
fortresses,  and  the  details  of  most  of  them  are  now 
known.  Of  those  great  ugly  fortifications  at 
Moulainville — the  Belrupt  Fort,  which  overlooks 
the  Meuse;  the  Daumaumont,  commanding  the 
road  from  Conflans  to  Azannes;  the  Paroches5 
which  stands  directly  over  the  highway  from  the 
Moselle  at  Moussin — we  have  heard  valiant 
stories,  how  the  brave  French  defended  them 
against  the  armies  of  the  Crown  Prince. 

It  was  not  upon  these,  however,  that  the 


Paul  Le  Pontois  91 

French  Army  relied  when,  in  August,  1914,  the 
clash  of  war  resounded  along  that  pleasant  fer- 
tile valley,  where  the  sun  seems  ever  to  shine  and 
the  crops  never  fail.  Hidden  away  from  the 
sight  of  passers-by  upon  the  roads,  protected 
from  sight  by  lines  of  sentries  night  and  day,  and 
unapproachable,  save  by  those  immediately  con- 
nected with  them,  were  the  secret  defences,  huge 
forts  with  long-range  ordnance,  which  rose,  fired, 
and  disappeared  again,  offering  no  mark  for  the 
enemy.  Constructed  in  strictest  secrecy,  there 
were  a  dozen  of  such  fortresses,  the  true  details 
of  which  the  Huns  vainly  endeavoured  to  learn 
while  they  were  war-plotting.  Many  a  spy  of  the 
Kaiser  had  tried  to  pry  there  and  had  been  ar- 
rested and  sentenced  to  a  long  term  of  imprison- 
ment. 

Those  defences,  placed  at  intervals  along  the 
chain  of  hills  right  from  Apremont  away  to 
Bezonvaux,  had  been  the  greatest  secret  which 
France  possessed. 

Within  three  kilometres  of  the  mouth  of  the 
pass  at  Haudiomont,  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
road  and  at  the  edge  of  a  wood,  stood  the  ancient 
Chateau  de  Lerouville,  a  small  picturesque  place 
of  the  days  of  Louis  XIV.,  with  pretty  lawns 
and  old-world  gardens — a  chateau  only  in  the 
sense  of  being  a  country  house  and  the  residence 


92  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

of  Paul  Le  Pontois,  once  a  captain  in  the  French 
Army,  but  now  retired. 

Shut  off  from  the  road  by  a  high  old  wall, 
with  great  iron  gates,  it  was  approached  by  a 
wide  carriage-drive  through  a  well-kept  flower- 
garden  to  a  long  terrasse  which  ran  the  whole 
length  of  the  house,  and  whereon,  in  summer,  it 
was  the  habit  of  the  family  to  take  their  meals. 

Upon  this  veranda,  one  morning  about  ten 
days  after  the  dinner  party  at  Hill  Street,  Sir 
Hugh,  in  a  suit  of  light  grey  tweed,  was  stand- 
ing chatting  with  his  son-in-law,  a  tall,  brown- 
bearded,  soldierly-looking  man. 

The  autumn  sun  shone  brightly  over  the  rich 
vinelands,  beyond  which  stretched  what  was  once 
the  German  Empire. 

Madame  Le  Pontois,  a  slim,  dark-eyed,  good- 
looking  woman  of  thirty,  was  still  at  table  in  the 
salle-a-manger,  finishing  her  breakfast  in  the 
English  style  with  little  Ninette,  a  pretty  blue- 
eyed  child  of  nine,  whose  hair  was  tied  on  the 
top  with  wide  white  ribbon,  and  who  spoke  Eng- 
lish quite  well. 

Her  husband  and  her  father  had  gone  out 
upon  the  terrasse  to  have  their  cigarettes  prior  to 
their  walk  up  the  steep  hillside  to  the  fortress. 

Life  in  that  rural  district  possessed  few 
amusements  outside  the  military  circle,  though 


Paul  Le  Pontois  93 

Paul  Le  Pontois  was  a  civilian  and  lived  upon 
the  product  of  the  wine-lands  of  his  estate. 
There  were  tennis  parties,  "  fif  o'clocks,"  croquet 
and  bridge-playing  in  the  various  military  houses 
around,  but  beyond  that — nothing.  They  were 
too  far  from  a  big  town  ever  to  go  there  for  recre- 
ation. JVletz  they  seldom  went  to,  and  with  Paris 
far  off,  Madame  Le  Pontois  was  quite  content, 
just  as  she  had  been  when  Paul  had  been  sta- 
tioned in  stifling  Constantine,  away  in  the  in- 
terior of  Algeria. 

But  she  never  complained.  Devoted  to  her 
husband  and  to  her  laughing,  bright-eyed  child, 
she  loved  the  open-air  life  of  the  country,  and 
with  such  a  commodious  and  picturesque  house, 
one  of  the  best  in  the  district,  she  thoroughly 
enjoyed  every  hour  of  her  life.  Paul  possessed 
a  private  income  of  fifty  thousand  francs,  or 
nearly  two  thousand  pounds  a  year,  therefore 
he  was  better  off  than  the  average  run  of  post- 
war men. 

He  was  a  handsome,  distinguished-looking 
man.  As  he  lolled  against  the  railing  of  the 
terrasse,  gay  with  ivy-leaf  geraniums,  lazily 
smoking  his  cigarette  and  laughing  lightly  with 
his  father-in-law,  he  presented  a  typical  picture 
of  the  debonair  Frenchman  of  the  boulevards- 
elegance  combined  with  soldierly  smartness. 


94  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

He  had  seen  service  in  Tonquin,  in  Algeria, 
on  the  French  Congo  and  in  the  Argonne,  and 
now  his  old  company  garrisoned  Haudiomont, 
one  of  those  forts  of  enormous  strength,  which 
commanded  the  gate  of  France,  and  had  never 
been  taken  by  the  Crown  Prince's  army. 

"  No,"  he  was  laughing,  speaking  in  good 
English,  "  you  in  England,  my  dear  beaupere, 
do  not  yet  realise  the  dangers  of  the  future. 
Happily  for  you,  perhaps,  because  you  have  the 
barrier  of  the  sea.  Your  writers  used  to  speak 
of  your  '  tight  little  island.'  But  I  do  not  see 
much  of  that  in  London  journals  now.  Airships 
and  aeroplanes  have  altered  all  that." 

"But  you  in  France  are  always  on  the 
alert?" 

"  Certainly.  We  have  our  new  guns — terrible 
weapons  they  are — at  St.  Mihiel  and  at  Mouilly, 
and  also  in  other  forts  in  what  was  once  German 
territory,"  was  Paul's  reply.  "  The  Huns — who, 
after  peace,  are  preparing  for  another  war,  have 
a  Krupp  gun  for  the  same  purpose,  but  at  its 
trial  a  few  weeks  ago  at  Pferzheim  it  was  an  utter 
failure.  A  certain  lieutenant  was  present  at 
the  trial,  disguised  as  a  German  peasant.  He 
saw  it  all,  returned  here,  and  made  an  exhaustive 
report  to  Paris." 

'  You  do  not  believe  in  this  peace,  and  in  the 


Paul  Le  Pontois  95 

sincerity  of  the  enemy,  eh? "  asked  Sir  Hugh, 
with  his  hands  thrust  deep  into  his  trousers 
pockets. 

"  Certainly  not,"  was  Paul's  prompt  reply. 
"  I  am  no  longer  in  the  army,  but  it  seems  to  me 
that  to  repair  the  damage  done  by  the  Kaiser's 
freak  performances  in  the  international  arena, 
quite  a  number  of  national  committees  must  be 
constituted  under  the  auspices  of  the  German 
Government.  There  are  the  Anglo- German,  the 
Austro-German,  the  American- German  and  the 
Canadian-German  committees,  all  to  be  formed 
in  their  respective  countries  for  the  promotion  of 
friendship  and  better  relations.  But  I  tell  you, 
Sir  Hugh,  that  we  in  France  know  well  that  the 
imposing  names  at  the  head  of  these  committees 
are  but  too  often  on  the  secret  pay-rolls  of  the 
Wilhelmstrasse,  and  the  honesty  and  sincerity  of 
the  finely-worded  manifestations  of  Hun  friend- 
ship and  goodwill  appearing  above  their  signa- 
tures are  generally  nothing  but  mere  blinds  in- 
tended to  hoodwink  statesmen  and  public  opinion. 
Germany  has,  just  as  she  had  before  the  war, 
her  paid  friends  everywhere,"  he  added,  looking 
the  general  full  in  the  face.  "  In  all  classes  of 
society  are  to  be  found  the  secret  agents  of  the 
Fatherland — men  who  are  base  traitors  to  their 
own  monarch  and  to  their  own  land." 


96  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Let  us  go  in.  They  are  waiting  for  us.  We 
are  not  interested  in  espionage,  either  of  us,  are 
we?" 

"  No,"  laughed  Paul.  "  When  I  was  in  the 
army  we  heard  a  lot  of  this,  but  all  that  is  of  the 
past — thanks  to  Heaven.  There  are  other  crimes 
in  the  world  just  as  bad,  alas!  as  that  of  treachery 
to  one's  country." 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  LITTLE  OLD  FRENCHWOMAN 

ALTHOUGH  Sir  Hugh  had  on  frequent  occasions 
been  the  guest  of  his  son-in-law  at  the  pretty 
Chateau  de  Lerouville,  he  had  never  expressed  a 
wish,  until  the  previous  evening,  to  enter  the 
Fortress  of  Haudiomont. 

As  a  military  man  he  knew  well  how  zealously 
the  secrets  of  all  fortresses  are  guarded. 

When,  on  the  previous  evening,  Le  Pontois 
had  declared  that  it  would  be  an  easy  matter  for 
him  to  be  granted  a  view  of  that  great  stronghold 
hidden  away  among  the  hill-tops,  he  had  re- 
marked :  "  Of  course,  my  dear  Paul,  I  would  not 
for  a  moment  dream  of  putting  you  into  any  awk- 
ward position.  Remember,  I  am  an  alien  here, 
and  a  soldier  also!  I  haven't  any  desire  to  see 
the  place." 

"  Oh,  there  is  no  question  of  that  so  far  as  you 
are  concerned,  Sir  Hugh,"  Paul  had  declared 
with  a  light  laugh.  *  The  Commandant,  who, 
of  course,  knows  you,  asked  me  a  month  ago  to 
bring  you  up  next  time  you  visited  us.  He 
wished  to  make  your  acquaintance.  In  view  of 

97 


98  The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  recent  war  our  people  are  nowadays  no  longer 
afraid  of  England,  you  know!  " 

So  the  visit  had  been  arranged,  and  Sir  Hugh 
was  to  take  his  dejeuner  up  at  the  fort. 

That  day  Blanche,  with  Enid,  who  had  ac- 
companied her  stepfather,  drove  the  runabout 
car  up  the  valley  to  the  little  station  at  Dieue- 
sur-Meuse,  and  took  train  thence  to  Comraercy, 
where  Blanche  wished  to  do  some  shopping. 

So,  when  the  two  men  had  left  to  ascend  the 
steep  hillside,  where  the  great  fortress  lay  con- 
cealed, Blanche,  who  had  by  long  residence  in 
France  become  almost  a  Frenchwoman,  kissed 
little  Ninette  au  revoir,  mounted  into  the  car,  and, 
taking  the  wheel,  drove  Enid  and  Jean,  the  ser- 
vant, who,  as  a  soldier,  had  served  Paul  during 
the  war,  away  along  the  winding  valley. 

As  they  went  along  they  passed  a  battalion 
of  the  113th  Regiment  of  the  Line,  heavy  with 
their  knapsacks,  their  red  trousers  dusty,  return- 
ing from  the  long  morning  march,  and  singing 
as  they  went  that  very  old  regimental  ditty  which 
every  soldier  of  France  knows  so  well: 

"La  Noire  est  file  du  cannon 
Q.UI  se  font  du  qu'en  dira-t-on. 
Nous  nous  foutons  de  ses  vertus, 
Puisqu'elle  a  les  tetons  pointuf. 

Foila  pourquoi  nous  la  chantont; 

Vive  la  Noire  et  sea  tetons!" 


The  Little  Old  Frenchwoman      99 

And  as  they  passed  the  ladies  the  officer  sa- 
luted. They  were,  Blanche  explained,  on  their 
way  back  to  the  great  camp  at  Jarny. 

Bugles  were  sounding  among  the  hills,  while 
ever  and  anon  came  the  low  boom  of  distant  ar- 
tillery at  practice  away  in  the  direction  of  Vig- 
neulles-les-Hattonchatel,  the  headquarters  of  the 
sub-division  of  that  military  region. 

It  was  Enid's  first  visit,  and  the  activity  about 
her  surprised  her.  Besides,  the  officers  were  ex- 
tremely good-looking. 

Presently  they  approached  a  battery  of  ar- 
tillery on  the  march,  with  their  rumbling  guns  and 
grey  ammunition  wagons,  raising  a  cloud  of  dust 
as  they  advanced. 

Blanche  pulled  the  car  up  at  the  side  of  the 
road  to  allow  them  to  pass,  and  as  she  did  so  a 
tall,  smartly-groomed  major  rode  up  to  her,  and, 
saluting,  exclaimed  in  French,  "  Bon  jour, 
Madame !  I  intended  to  call  upon  you  this  morn- 
ing. My  wife  has  heard  that  you  have  the  gen- 
eral, your  father,  visiting  you,  and  we  wanted 
to  know  if  you  would  all  come  and  take  dinner 
with  us  to-morrow  night? " 

"  I'm  sure  we'd  be  most  delighted,"  replied 
Paul's  wife,  at  the  same  time  introducing  Enid 
to  Major  Delagrange. 

"  My  father  has  gone  up  to  the  fort  with 


TOO          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

my  husband,"  Blanche  added,  bending  over  from 
the  car. 

"  Ah,  then  I  shall  meet  them  at  noon,'*  re- 
plied the  smart  officer,  backing  his  bay  horse. 
"And  you  ladies  are  going  out  for  a  run,  eh? 
Beautiful  morning!  We've  been  out  manoeuv- 
ring since  six ! " 

Blanche  explained  that  they  were  on  a  shop- 
ping expedition  to  Commercy,  and  then,  saluting, 
Delagrange  set  spurs  into  his  horse  and  galloped 
away  after  the  retreating  battery. 

"  That  man's  wife  is  one  of  my  best  friends. 
She  speaks  English  very  well,  and  is  quite  a  good 
sort.  Delagrange  and  Paul  were  in  Tonquin  to- 
gether and  are  great  friends." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  never  very  dull  here,  with 
so  much  always  going  on? "  Enid  remarked. 
'  Why  anyone  would  believe  that  a  war  was  actu- 
ally in  progress ! " 

"  This  post  of  Eastern  France  never  sleeps, 
my  dear,"  was  Madame's  reply.  '  While  you  in 
England  remain  secure  in  your  island,  we  here 
never  know  when  trouble  may  again  arise. 
Therefore,  we  are  always  preparing — and  at  the 
same  time  always  prepared." 

"  It  must  be  most  exciting,"  declared  the  girl, 
"  to  live  in  such  uncertainty.  Is  the  danger  so 
very  real,  then?  "  she  asked.  "  Father  generally 


The  Little  Old  Frenchwoman    101 

pooh-poohs  the  notion  of  there  being  any  further 
trouble  with  Germany." 

"  I  know,"  was  Blanche's  answer.  "  He  has 
been  sceptical  hitherto.  He  is  always  suspicious 
of  theBoche!" 

They  had  driven  up  to  the  little  wayside  sta- 
tion, and,  giving  the  car  over  to  Jean  with  in- 
structions to  meet  the  five-forty  train,  they  en- 
tered a  first-class  compartment. 

Between  Dieue  and  Commercy  the  railway 
follows  the  course  of  the  Meuse  the  whole  way, 
winding  up  a  narrow,  fertile  valley,  the  hills  of 
which  on  the  right,  which  once  were  swept  by  the 
enemy's  shells  and  completely  devastated,  were 
all  strongly  fortified  with  great  guns  commanding 
the  plain  that  lies  between  the  Meuse  and  the 
Moselle. 

They  were  passing  through  one  of  the  most 
interesting  districts  in  all  France — that  quiet,  fer- 
tile valley  where  stood  peaceful,  prosperous 
homesteads,  and  where  the  sheep  were  once  more 
calmly  grazing — the  valley  which  for  four  years 
was  so  strongly  contested,  and  where  every  vil- 
lage had  been  more  or  less  destroyed. 

At  the  headquarters  of  the  Sixth  Army  Corps 
of  France  much  was  known,  much  that  was  still 
alarming.  It  was  that  knowledge  which  urged 
on  those  ever  active  military  preparations,  for 


102          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

placing  that  district  of  France  that  had  been  rav- 
aged by  the  Hun  in  the  Great  War  in  a  state  of 
complete  fortification  as  a  second  line  of  defence 
should  trouble  again  arise. 

Thoughts  such  as  these  arose  in  Enid's  mind 
as  she  sat  in  silence  looking  forth  upon  the  pano- 
rama of  green  hills  and  winding  stream  as  they 
slowly  approached  the  quaint  town  of  Commercy. 

Arrived  there,  the  pair  lunched  at  the  old- 
fashioned  Hotel  de  Paris,  under  the  shadow  of 
the  great  chateau,  once  the  residence  of  the  Dukes 
de  Lorraine,  and  much  damaged  in  the  war,  but 
nowadays  a  hive  of  activity  as  an  infantry  bar- 
racks. And  afterwards  they  went  forth  to  do 
their  shopping  in  the  busy  little  Rue  de  la  Re- 
publique,  not  forgetting  to  buy  a  box  of  "  made- 
leines."  As  shortbread  is  the  specialty  of  Edin- 
burgh, as  butterscotch  is  that  of  Doncaster* 
"  maids-of -honour "  that  of  Richmond,  and 
strawberry  jam  that  of  Bar-le-Duc,  so  are 
"  madeleines  "  the  special  cakes  of  Commercy. 

The  town  was  full  of  officers  and  soldiers.  In 
every  cafe  officers  were  smoking  cigarettes  and 
gossiping  after  their  dejeuner;  while  ever  and 
anon  bugles  sounded,  and  there  was  the  clang  and 
clatter  of  military  movement. 

As  the  two  ladies  approached  the  big  bronze 
statue  of  Dom  Calmet,  the  historian,  they  passed 


The  Little  Old  Frenchwoman    103 

a  small  cafe.  Suddenly  a  man  idling  within  over 
a  newspaper  sprang  to  his  feet  in  surprise,  and 
next  second  drew  back  as  if  in  fear  of  observation. 

It  was  Walter  Fetherston.  He  had  come  up 
from  Nancy  that  morning,  and  had  since  occu- 
pied the  time  in  strolling  about  seeing  the  sights 
of  the  little  place. 

His  surprise  at  seeing  Enid  was  very  great. 
He  knew  that  she  was  staying  in  the  vicinity,  but 
had  never  expected  to  see  her  so  quickly. 

The  lady  who  accompanied  her  he  guessed  to 
be  her  stepsister;  indeed,  he  had  seen  a  photo- 
graph of  her  at  Hill  Street.  Had  Enid  been 
alone,  he  would  have  rushed  forth  to  greet  her; 
but  he  had  no  desire  at  the  moment  that  his  pres- 
ence should  be  known  to  Madame  Le  Pontois. 
He  was  there  to  watch,  and  to  meet  Enid — but 
alone. 

So  after  a  few  moments  he  cautiously  went 
forth  from  the  cafe,  and  followed  the  two  ladies 
at  a  respectful  distance,  until  he  saw  them  com- 
plete their  purchases  and  afterwards  enter  the 
station  to  return  home. 

On  his  return  to  the  hotel  he  made  many  in- 
quiries of  monsieur  the  proprietor  concerning  the 
distance  to  Haudiomont,  and  learned  a  good 
deal  about  the  military  works  there  which  was  of 
the  greatest  interest.  The  hotel-keeper,  a  stout 


104         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Alsatian,  was  a  talkative  person,  and  told  Wal- 
ter nearly  all  he  wished  to  know. 

Since  leaving  Charing  Cross  five  days  before 
he  had  been  ever  active.  On  his  arrival  in  Paris 
he  had  gone  to  the  apartment  of  Colonel  May- 
nard,  the  British  military  attache,  and  spent  the 
evening  with  him.  Then,  at  one  o'clock  next 
morning,  he  had  hurriedly  taken  his  bag  and  left 
for  Dijon,  where  at  noon  he  had  been  met  in  the 
Cafe  de  la  Rotonde  by  a  little  wizen-faced  old 
Frenchwoman  in  seedy  black,  who  had  travelled 
for  two  days  and  nights  in  order  to  meet  him. 

Together  they  had  walked  out  on  that  un- 
frequented road  beyond  the  Place  Darcy,  chat- 
ting confidentially  as  they  went,  the  old  lady 
speaking  emphatically  and  with  many  gesticula- 
tions as  they  walked. 

Truth  to  tell,  this  insignificant-looking  person 
was  a  woman  of  many  secrets.  She  was  a 
"  friend  "  of  the  Surete  Generate  in  Paris.  She 
lived,  and  lived  well,  in  a  pretty  apartment  in 
Paris  upon  the  handsome  salary  which  she  re- 
ceived regularly  each  quarter.  But  she  was  sel- 
dom at  home.  Like  Walter,  her  days  were  spent 
travelling  hither  and  thither  across  Europe. 

It  would  surprise  the  public  if  it  were  aware 
of  the  truth — the  truth  of  how,  in  every  country 
in  Europe,  there  are  secret  female  agents  of  po- 


The  Little  Old  Frenchwoman    105 

lice  who  (for  a  monetary  consideration,  of 
course)  keep  watch  in  great  centres  where  the 
presence  of  a  man  would  be  suspected. 

This  secret  police  service  is  distinctly  apart 
from  the  detective  service.  The  female  police 
agent  in  all  countries  works  independently,  at  the 
orders  of  the  Director  of  Criminal  Investigation, 
and  is  known  to  him  and  his  immediate  staff. 

Whatever  information  that  wrinkled-faced 
old  Frenchwoman  in  shabby  black  had  imparted 
to  Fetherston  it  was  of  an  entirely  confidential 
character.  It,  however,  caused  him  to  leave  her 
about  three  o'clock,  hurry  to  the  Gare  Porte- 
Neuve,  and,  after  hastily  swallowing  a  liqueur  of 
brandy  in  the  buffet,  depart  for  Langres. 

Thence  he  had  travelled  to  Nancy,  where  he 
had  taken  up  quarters  at  the  Grand  Hotel  in  the 
Place  Stanislas,  and  had  there  remained  for  two 
days  in  order  to  rest. 

He  would  not  have  idled  those  autumn  days 
away  so  lazily,  even  though  he  so  urgently  re- 
quired rest  after  that  rapid  travelling,  had  he  but 
known  that  the  person  who  occupied  the  next 
room  to  his — that  middle-aged  commercial  travel- 
ler— an  entirely  inoffensive  person  who  possessed 
a  red  beard,  and  who  had  given  the  name  of  Jules 
Dequanter,  and  his  nationality  as  Belgian,  native 
of  Liege— was  none  other  than  Gustav  Heureux, 


io6         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  man  who  had  been  recalled  from  New  York 
by  the  evasive  doctor  of  Pimlico. 

And  further,  Fetherston,  notwithstanding  his 
acuteness  in  observation,  was  in  blissful  igno- 
rance, as  he  strolled  back  from  the  station  at  Com- 
mercy,  up  the  old-world  street,  that  a  short  dis- 
tance behind  him,  carefully  watching  all  his  move- 
ments, was  the  man  Joseph  Blot  himself — the 
man  known  in  dingy  Pimlico  as  Dr.  Weirmarsh. 


CHAPTER  X 

IF  ANYONE   KNEW 

SIE  HUGH  ELCOMBE  spent  a  most  interesting 
and  instructive  day  within  the  Fortress  of  Hau- 
diomont.  He  really  did  not  want  to  go.  The 
visit  bored  him.  The  world  was  at  peace,  and 
there  was  no  incentive  to  espionage  as  there  had 
been  in  pre-war  days. 

General  Henri  Molon,  the  commandant, 
greeted  him  cordially  and  himself  showed  him 
over  a  portion  of  the  post-war  defences  which 
were  kept  such  a  strict  secret  from  everyone.  The 
general  did  not,  however,  show  his  distinguished 
guest  everything.  Such  things  as  the  new  anti- 
aircraft gun,  the  exact  disposition  of  the  huge 
mines  placed  in  the  valley  between  there  and 
Rozellier,  so  that  at  a  given  signal  both  road 
and  railway  tracks  could  be  destroyed,  he  did  not 
point  out.  There  were  other  matters  to  which  the 
smart,  grey-haired,  old  French  general  deemed  it 
unwise  to  refer,  even  though  his  visitor  might  be 
a  high  official  of  a  friendly  Power. 

Sir  Hugh  noticed  all  this  and  smiled  inward- 
ly. He  wandered  about  the  bomb-proof  case- 

107 


io8          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

mates  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock,  caring  noth- 
ing for  the  number  and  calibre  of  the  guns,  their 
armoured  protection,  or  the  chart-like  diagrams 
upon  the  walls,  ranges  and  the  like. 

"  What  a  glorious  evening!  "  Paul  was  say- 
ing as,  at  sunset,  they  set  their  faces  towards  the 
valley  beyond  which  lay  shattered  Germany. 
That  peaceful  land,  the  theatre  of  the  recent  war, 
lay  bathed  in  the  soft  rose  of  the  autumn  after- 
glow, while  the  bright  clearness  of  the  sky,  pale- 
green  and  gold,  foretold  a  frost. 

'  Yes,  splendid!  "  responded  his  father-in-law 
mechanically;  but  he  was  thinking  of  something 
far  more  serious  than  the  beauties  of  the  western 
sky.  He  was  thinking  of  the  grip  in  which  he 
was  held  by  the  doctor  of  Pimlico.  At  any  mo- 
ment, if  he  cared  to  collapse,  he  could  make  ten 
thousand  pounds  in  a  single  day.  The  career  of 
many  a  man  has  been  blasted  for  ever  by  the  ut- 
terance of  cruel  untruths  or  the  repetition  of 
vague  suspicions.  Was  his  son-in-law,  Le  Pon- 
tois,  in  jeopardy?  He  could  not  think  that  he 
was.  How  could  the  truth  come  out?  Sir  Hugh 
asked  himself.  It  never  had  before — though  his 
friend  had  made  a  million  sterling,  and  there  was 
no  reason  whatever  why  it  should  come  out  now. 
He  had  tested  Weirmarsh  thoroughly,  and  knew 
him  to  be  a  man  to  be  trusted. 


If  Anyone  Knew  109 

As  he  strolled  on  at  his  son-in-law's  side,  chat- 
ting to  him,  he  was  full  of  anxiety  as  to  the  fu- 
ture. He  had  left  England,  it  was  true.  He  had 
defied  the  doctor.  But  the  latter  had  been  inex- 
orable. If  he  continued  in  his  defiance,  then 
ruin  must  inevitably  come  to  him. 

Blanche  and  Enid  had  already  returned,  and 
at  dusk  all  four  sat  down  to  dinner  together  with 
little  Ninette,  for  whom  "  Aunt  Enid "  had 
brought  a  new  doll  which  had  given  the  child  the 
greatest  delight. 

The  meal  ended,  the  bridge-table  was  set  in 
the  pretty  salon  adjoining,  and  several  games 
were  played  until  Sir  Hugh,  pleading  fatigue, 
at  last  ascended  to  his  room. 

Within,  he  locked  the  door  and  cast  himself 
into  a  chair  before  the  big  log  fire  to  think. 

That  day  had  indeed  been  a  strenuous  one — 
strenuous  for  any  man.  So  occupied  had  been 
his  brain  that  he  scarcely  recollected  any  conver- 
sations with  those  smart  debonair  officers  to 
whom  Paul  had  introduced  him. 

As  he  sat  there  he  closed  his  eyes,  and  before 
him  arose  visions  of  interviews  in  dingy  offices 
in  London,  one  of  them  behind  Soho  Square. 

For  a  full  hour  he  sat  there  immovable  as  a 
statue,  reflecting,  ever  recalling  the  details  of 
those  events. 


i  io         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Suddenly  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  clenched 
hands. 

"  My  God!  "  he  cried,  his  teeth  set  and  coun- 
tenance pale.  "My  God!  If  anybody  ever 
knew  the  truth !  " 

He  crossed  to  the  window,  drew  aside  the 
blind,  and  looked  out  upon  the  moonlit  plains. 

Below,  his  daughter  was  still  playing  the 
piano  and  singing  an  old  English  ballad. 

"She's  happy,  ah!  my  dear  Blanche!"  the 
old  man  murmured  between  his  teeth.  "  But  if 
suspicion  falls  upon  me?  Ah!  if  it  does;  then  it 
means  ruin  to  them  both — ruin  because  of  a  das- 
tardly action  of  mine !  " 

He  returned  unsteadily  to  his  chair,  and  sat 
staring  straight  into  the  embers,  his  hands  to 
his  hot,  fevered  brow.  More  than  once  he  sighed 
— sighed  heavily,  as  a  man  when  fettered  and 
compelled  to  act  against  his  better  nature. 

Again  he  heard  his  daughter's  voice  below, 
now  singing  a  gay  little  French  chanson,  a  song 
of  the  cafe  chantant  and  of  the  Paris  boulevards. 

In  a  flash  there  recurred  to  him  every  inci- 
dent of  those  dramatic  interviews  with  the  Me- 
phistophelean doctor.  He  would  at  that  moment 
have  given  his  very  soul  to  be  free  of  that  calm, 
clever,  insinuating  man  who,  while  providing  him 
with  a  handsome,  even  unlimited  income,  yet  at 


If  Anyone  Knew  m 

the  same  time  held  him  irrevocably  in  the  hollow 
of  his  hand. 

He,  a  brilliant  British  soldier  with  a  magni- 
ficent record,  honoured  by  his  sovereign,  was, 
after  all,  but  a  tool  of  that  obscure  doctor,  the 
man  who  had  come  into  his  life  to  rescue  him 
from  bankruptcy  and  disgrace. 

When  he  reflected  he  bit  his  lip  in  despair. 
Yet  there  was  no  way  out — none!  Weirmarsh 
had  really  been  most  generous.  The  cosy  house 
in  Hill  Street,  the  smart  little  entertainments 
which  his  wife  gave,  the  bit  of  shooting  he  rented 
up  in  the  Highlands,  were  all  paid  for  with  the 
money  which  the  doctor  handed  him  in  Treasury 
notes  with  such  regularity. 

Yes,  Weirmarsh  was  generous,  but  he  was 
nevertheless  exacting,  terribly  exacting.  His  will 
was  the  will  of  others. 

The  blazing  logs  had  died  down  to  a  red  mass, 
the  voice  of  Blanche  had  ceased.  He  had  heard 
footsteps  an  hour  ago  in  the  corridor  outside,  and 
knew  that  the  family  had  retired.  There  was 
not  a  sound.  All  were  asleep,  save  the  sentries 
high  upon  that  hidden  fortress.  Again  the  old 
general  sighed  wearily.  His  grey  face  now  wore 
an  expression  of  resignation.  He  had  thought 
it  all  out,  and  saw  that  to  resist  and  refuse  would 
only  spell  ruin  for  both  himself  and  his  family. 


ii2         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

He  had  but  himself  to  blame  after  all.  He  had 
taken  one  false  step,  and  he  had  been  held  in- 
exorably to  his  contract. 

So  he  yawned  wearily,  rose,  stretched  him- 
self, and  then,  pacing  the  room  twice,  at  last 
turned  up  the  lamp  and  placed  it  upon  the  small 
writing-table  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Afterwards 
he  took  from  his  suit-case  a  quire  of  ruled  fools- 
cap paper  and  a  fountain  pen,  and,  seating  him- 
self, sat  for  some  time  with  his  head  in  his  hands 
deep  in  thought.  Suddenly  the  clock  in  the  big 
hall  below  chimed  two  upon  its  peal  of  silvery 
bells.  This  aroused  him,  and,  taking  up  his  pen, 
he  began  to  write. 

Ever  and  anon  as  he  wrote  he  sat  back  and  re- 
flected. 

Hour  after  hour  he  sat  there,  bent  to  the  ta- 
ble, his  pen  rapidly  travelling  over  the  paper. 
He  wrote  down  many  figures  and  was  making 
calculations. 

At  half-past  four  he  put  down  his  pen.  The 
sum  was  not  complete,  but  it  was  one  which  he 
knew  would  end  his  career  and  bring  him  into  the 
dock  of  a  criminal  court,  and  Weirmarsh  and 
others  would  stand  beside  him. 

All  this  he  had  done  in  entire  ignorance  of 
one  startling  fact — namely,  that  outside  his  win- 
dow for  the  past  hour  a  dark  figure  had  been 


If  Anyone  Knew  113 

standing  in  an  insecure  position  upon  the  lead 
guttering  of  the  wing  of  the  chateau  which  ran 
out  at  right  angles,  leaning  forward  and  peering 
in  between  the  blind  and  the  window-frame, 
watching  with  interest  all  that  had  been  in  prog- 
ress. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CONCERNS   THE   PAST 

ONE  evening,  a  few  days  after  Sir  Hugh  had 
paid  another  visit  to  Haudiomont,  he  was  smok- 
ing with  Paul  prior  to  retiring  to  bed  when  the 
conversation  drifted  upon  money  matters — some 
investment  he  had  made  in  England  in  his  wife's 
name. 

Paul  had  allowed  his  father-in-law  to  handle 
some  of  his  money  in  England,  for  Sir  Hugh 
was  very  friendly  with  a  man  named  Hewett  in 
the  City,  who  had  on  several  occasions  put  him 
on  good  things. 

Indeed,  just  before  Sir  Hugh  had  left  Lon- 
don he  had  had  a  wire  from  Paul  to  sell  some 
shares  at  a  big  profit,  and  he  had  brought  over 
the  proceeds  in  Treasury  notes,  quite  a  respect- 
able sum.  There  had  been  a  matter  of  concealing 
certain  payments,  Sir  Hugh  explained,  and  that 
was  why  he  had  brought  over  the  money  instead 
of  a  cheque. 

As  they  were  chatting  Sir  Hugh,  referring  to 
the  transaction,  said: 

114 


Concerns  the  Past  115 

"  Hewett  suggested  that  I  should  have  it  in 
notes — four  five-hundred  Bank  of  England  ones 
and  the  rest  in  Treasury  notes." 

"  I  sent  them  to  the  Credit  Lyonnais  a  few 
days  ago,"  replied  his  son-in-law.  "  Really,  Sir 
Hugh,  you  did  a  most  excellent  bit  of  business 
with  Hewett.  I  hope  you  profited  yourself." 

'  Yes,  a  little  bit,"  laughed  the  old  general. 
"  Can't  complain,  you  know.  I'm  glad  you've 
sent  the  notes  to  the  bank.  It  was  a  big  sum  to 
keep  in  the  house  here." 

'  Yes,  I  see  only  to-day  they've  credited  me 
with  them,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  hope  you  can  in- 
duce Hewett  to  do  a  bit  more  for  us.  Those  aero- 
plane shares  are  still  going  up,  I  see  by  the  Lon- 
don papers." 

"  And  they'll  continue  to  do  so,  my  dear 
Paul,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  those  Bolivian  four 
per  cents,  of  yours  I'd  sell  if  I  were  you.  They'll 
never  be  higher." 

"You  don't  think  so?" 

"  Hewett  warned  me.  He  told  me  to  tell  you. 
Of  course,  you're  richer  than  I  am,  and  can 
afford  to  keep  them.  Only  I  warn  you." 

4  Very  well,"  replied  the  younger  man, 
"  when  you  get  back,  sell  them,  will  you  ?  " 

And  Sir  Hugh  promised  that  he  would  give 
instructions  to  that  effect. 


ii6          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"Really,  my  dear  beau-pere,"  Paul  said, 
"  you've  been  an  awfully  good  friend  to  me. 
Since  I  left  the  army  I've  made  quite  a  big  sum 
out  of  my  speculations  in  London." 

"  And  mostly  paid  with  English  notes,  eh?  " 
laughed  the  elder  man. 

"  Yes.  Just  let  me  see."  And,  taking  a  piece 
of  paper,  he  sat  down  at  the  writing-table  and 
made  some  quick  calculations  of  various  sums. 
Upon  one  side  he  placed  the  money  he  had  in- 
vested, and  on  the  other  the  profits,  at  last  strik- 
ing a  balance  at  the  end.  Then  he  told  the  gen- 
eral the  figure. 

"  Quite  good,"  declared  Sir  Hugh.  "  I'm  only 
too  glad,  my  dear  Paul,  to  be  of  any  assistance 
to  you.  I  fear  you  are  vegetating  here.  But  as 
long  as  your  wife  doesn't  mind  it,  what  matters?  " 

"  Blanche  loves  this  country — which  is  for- 
tunate, seeing  that  I  have  this  big  place  to  attend 
to."  And  as  he  said  this  he  rose,  screwed  up  the 
sheet  of  thin  note-paper,  and  tossed  it  into  the 
waste-paper  basket. 

The  pair  separated  presently,  and  Sir  Hugh 
went  to  his  room.  He  was  eager  and  anxious  to 
get  away  and  return  to  London,  but  there  was 
a  difficulty.  Enid,  who  had  lately  taken  up  ama- 
teur theatricals,  had  accepted  an  invitation  to 
play  in  a  comedy  to  be  given  at  General  Molon's 


Concerns  the  Past  117 

house  in  a  week's  time  in  aid  of  the  Croix  Rouge. 
Therefore  he  was  compelled  to  remain  on  her  ac- 
count. 

On  the  following  afternoon  Blanche  drove 
him  in  her  car  through  the  beautiful  Bois  de  Her- 
meville,  glorious  in  its  autumn  gold,  down  to  the 
quaint  old  village  of  Warcq,  to  take  "  fif  o'clock  " 
at  the  chateau  with  the  Countess  de  Pierrepont, 
Paul's  widowed  aunt. 

Enid  had  pleaded  a  headache,  but  as  soon  as 
the  car  had  driven  away  she  roused  herself,  and, 
ascending  to  her  room,  put  on  strong  country 
boots  and  a  leather-hemmed  golf  skirt,  and,  tak- 
ing a  stick,  set  forth  down  the  high  road  lined  with 
poplars  in  the  direction  of  Mars-le-Tour. 

About  a  mile  from  Lerouville  she  came  to  the 
cross-roads,  the  one  to  the  south  leading  over  the 
hills  to  Vigneulles,  while  the  one  to  the  north 
joined  the  highway  to  Longuyon.  For  a  moment 
she  paused,  then  turning  into  the  latter  road, 
which  at  that  point  was  little  more  than  a  byway, 
hurried  on  until  she  came  to  the  fringe  of  a  wood, 
where,  upon  her  approach,  a  man  in  dark  grey 
tweeds  came  forth  to  meet  her  with  swinging 
gait. 

It  was  Walter  Fetherston. 

He  strode  quickly  in  her  direction,  and  when 
they  met  he  held  her  small  hand  in  his  and  for 


n8          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

a  moment  gazed  into  her  dark  eyes  without  utter- 
ing a  word. 

"  At  last!  "  he  cried.  "  I  was  afraid  that  you 
had  not  received  my  message — that  it  might  have 
been  intercepted." 

"  I  got  it  early  this  morning,"  was  her  reply, 
her  cheeks  flushing  with  pleasure ;  "  but  I  was 
unable  to  get  away  before  my  father  and  Blanche 
went  out.  They  pressed  me  to  go  with  them,  so 
I  had  to  plead  a  headache." 

"  I  am  so  glad  we've  met,"  Fetherston  said, 
"  I  have  been  here  in  the  vicinity  for  days,  yet 
I  feared  to  come  near  you  lest  your  father  should 
recognise  me." 

"  But  why  are  you  here?  "  she  inquired,  stroll- 
ing slowly  at  his  side.  "  I  thought  you  were  in 
London." 

"  I'm  seldom  in  London,"  he  responded. 
"  Nowadays  I  am  constantly  on  the  move." 

'  Travelling  in  search  of  fresh  material  for 
your  books,  I  suppose?  I  read  in  a  paper  the 
other  day  that  you  never  describe  a  place  ii>  your 
stories  without  first  visiting  it.  If  so,  you  must 
travel  a  great  deal,"  the  girl  remarked. 

"  I  do,"  he  answered  briefly.  "And  «rery 
often  I  travel  quickly." 

"  But  why  are  you  here?  " 


Concerns  the  Past  119 

"  For  several  reasons — the  chief  being  to  see 
you,  Enid." 

For  a  moment  the  girl  did  not  reply.  This 
man's  movements  so  often  mystified  her.  He 
seemed  ubiquitous.  In  one  single  fortnight  he 
had  sent  her  letters  from  Paris,  Stockholm,  Ham- 
burg, Vienna  and  Constanza.  His  huge  circle  of 
friends  was  unequalled.  In  almost  every  city 
on  the  Continent  he  knew  somebody,  and  he  was 
a  perfect  encyclopaedia  of  travel.  His  strange 
reticence,  however,  always  increased  the  mystery 
surrounding  him.  Those  vague  whispers  con- 
cerning him  had  reached  her  ears,  and  she  often 
wondered  whether  half  she  heard  concerning  him 
was  true. 

If  a  man  prefers  not  to  speak  of  himself  or  of 
his  doings,  his  enemies  will  soon  invent  some  tale 
of  their  own.  And  thus  it  was  in  Walter's  case. 
Men  had  uttered  foul  calumnies  concerning  him 
merely  because  they  believed  him  to  be  eccentric 
and  unsociable. 

But  Enid  Orlebar,  though  she  somehow 
held  him  in  suspicion,  nevertheless  liked  him.  In 
certain  moods  he  possessed  that  dash  and  devil- 
may-care  air  which  pleases  most  women,  pro- 
viding the  man  is  a  cosmopolitan. 

He  was  ever  courteous,  ever  solicitous  for  her 
welfare. 


120          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

She  had  known  he  loved  her  ever  since  they 
had  first  met.  Indeed,  has  he  not  told  her  so? 

As  they  walked  together  down  that  grass- 
grown  byway  through  the  wood,  where  the  brown 
leaves  were  floating  down  with  every  gust,  she 
glanced  into  his  pale,  dark,  serious  face  and  won- 
dered. In  her  nostrils  was  the  autumn  perfume 
of  the  woods,  and  as  they  strode  forward  in  si- 
lence a  rabbit  scuttled  from  their  path. 

'  You  are,  no  doubt,  surprised  that  I  am 
here,"  he  commenced  at  last.  "  But  it  is  in  your 
interests,  Enid." 

"In  my  interests?"  she  echoed.     "Why?" 

"  Regarding  the  secret  relations  between  your 
stepfather  and  Doctor  Weirmarsh,"  he  answered. 

;<  That  same  question  we've  discussed  before," 
she  said.  '  The  doctor  is  attending  to  his  practice 
in  Pimlico;  he  does  not  concern  us  here." 

"  I  fear  that  he  does,"  was  Fetherston's  quiet 
response.  "  That  man  holds  your  stepfather's 
future  in  his  hand." 

"  How — how  can  he? " 

"  By  the  same  force  by  which  he  holds  that 
indescribable  influence  over  you." 

'  You  believe,  then,  that  he  possesses  some 
occult  power? " 

"  Not  at  all.  His  power  is  the  power  which 
every  evil  man  possesses.  And  as  far  as  my 


Concerns  the  Past  121 

observation  goes,  I  can  detect  that  Sir  Hugh  has 
fallen  into  some  trap  which  has  been  cunningly 
prepared  for  him." 

Enid  gasped  and  her  countenance  blanched. 
'  You  believe,  then,  that  those  consultations 
I  have  had  with  the  doctor  are  at  his  own  instiga- 
tion?" 

"  Most  certainly.  Sir  Hugh  hates  Weir- 
marsh,  but,  fearing  exposure,  he  must  obey  the 
fellow's  will." 

"  But  cannot  you  discover  the  truth?  "  asked 
the  girl  eagerly.  "  Cannot  we  free  my  step- 
father? He's  such  a  dear  old  fellow,  and  is  al- 
ways so  good  and  kind  to  my  mother  and  my- 
self." 

'  That  is  exactly  my  object  in  asking  you  to 
meet  me  here,  Enid,"  said  the  novelist,  his  coun- 
tenance still  thoughtful  and  serious. 

"  How  can  I  assist? "  she  asked  quickly. 
"  Only  explain,  and  I  will  act  upon  any  sugges- 
tion you  may  make." 

'  You  can  assist  by  giving  me  answers  to  cer- 
tain questions,"  was  his  slow  reply.  The  inquiry 
was  delicate  and  difficult  to  pursue  without 
arousing  the  girl's  suspicions  as  to  the  exact  situ- 
ation and  the  hideous  scandal  in  progress. 

"  What  do  you  wish  to  know?  "  she  asked  in 


i22          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

some  surprise,  for  she  saw  by  his  countenance 
that  he  was  deeply  in  earnest. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  with  some  little  hesitation, 
glancing  at  her  pale,  handsome  face  as  he  walked 
by  her  side,  "  I  fear  you  may  think  me  too  in- 
quisitive— that  the  questions  I'm  going  to  ask 
are  out  of  sheer  curiosity." 

"  I  shall  not  if  by  replying  I  can  assist  my 
stepfather  to  escape  from  that  man's  thraldom." 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then  he  said 
slowly:  "  I  think  Sir  Hugh  was  in  command  of 
a  big  training  camp  in  Norfolk  early  in  the  war, 
was  he  not? " 

'  Yes.  I  went  with  him,  and  we  stayed  for 
about  three  months  at  the  King's  Head  at 
Beccles." 

"  And  during  the  time  you  were  at  the  King's 
Head,  did  the  doctor  ever  visit  Sir  Hugh?  " 

'  Yes ;  the  doctor  stayed  several  times  at  the 
Royal  at  Lowestoft.  We  both  motored  over  on 
several  occasions  and  dined  with  him.  Doctor 
Weirmarsh  was  not  well,  so  he  had  gone  to  the 
east  coast  for  a  change." 

"  And  he  also  came  over  to  Beccles  to  see  your 
stepfather?" 

'  Yes ;  twice,  or  perhaps  three  times.  One 
evening  after  dinner,  I  remember,  they  left  the 
hotel  and  went  for  a  long  walk  together.  I  rec- 


Concerns  the  Past  123 

ollect  it  well,  for  I  had  been  out  all  day  and  had 
a  bad  headache.     Therefore,  the  doctor  went 
along  to  the  chemist's  on  his  way  out  and  ordered 
me  a  draught." 
"You  took  it?" 

*  Yes ;  and  I  went  to  sleep  almost  immedi- 
ately, and  did  not  wake  up  till  very  late  next 
morning,"  she  replied. 

'  You  recollect,  too,  a  certain  man  named 
Bellairs?" 

"  Ah,  yes !  "  she  sighed.  "  How  very  sad  it 
was!  Poor  Captain  Bellairs  was  a  great  favour- 
ite of  the  general,  and  served  on  his  staff." 

"  He  was  with  him  in  the  Boer  War,  was  he 
not?" 

'  Yes.  But  how  do  you  know  all  this  ?  "  asked 
the  girl,  looking  curiously  at  her  questioner  and 
turning  slightly  paler. 

*  Well,"  he  replied  evasively,  "  I — I've  been 
told  so,  and  wished  to  know  whether  it  was  a  fact. 
You  and  he  were  friends,  eh? "  he  asked  after  a 
pause. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  did  not  reply.  A  flood 
of  sad*memories  swept  through  her  mind  at  the 
mention  of  Harry  Bellairs. 

'  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  we  were  great  friends. 
He  took  me  to  concerts  and  matinees  in  town 
sometimes.  Sir  Hugh  always  said  he  was  a  man 


124          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

bound  to  make  his  mark.  He  had  earned  his 
D.S.O.  with  French  at  Mons  and  was  twice  men- 
tioned in  dispatches." 

"  And  you,  Enid,"  he  said,  still  speaking  very 
slowly,  his  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  hers,  "  you  would 
probably  have  consented  to  become  Mrs.  Bellairs 
had  he  lived  to  ask  you?  Tell  me  the  truth." 

Her  eyes  were  cast  down ;  he  saw  in  them  the 
light  of  unshed  tears. 

"  Pardon  me  for  referring  to  such  a  painful 
subject,"  he  hastened  to  say,  "  but  it  is  impera- 
tive." 

"  I  thought  that  you  were — were  unaware  of 
the  sad  affair,"  she  faltered. 

"  So  I  was  until  quite  recently,"  he  replied. 
"  I  know  how  deeply  it  must  pain  you  to  speak 
of  it,  but  will  you  please  explain  to  me  the  actual 
facts?  I  know  that  you  are  better  acquainted 
with  them  than  anyone  else." 

'  The  facts  of  poor  Harry's  death,"  she  re- 
peated hoarsely,  as  though  speaking  to  herself. 
"  Why  recall  them?  Oh !  why  recall  them? " 


CHAPTER  XII 

REVEALS  A   CURIOUS   PROBLEM 

THE  countenance  of  Enid  Orlebar  had  changed ; 
her  cheeks  were  deathly  white,  and  her  face  was 
sufficient  index  to  a  mind  overwhelmed  with  grief 
and  regret. 

"  I  asked  you  to  explain,  because  I  fear  that 
my  information  may  be  faulty.  Captain  Bellairs 
died — died  suddenly,  did  he  not?  " 

'  Yes.  It  was  a  great  blow  to  my  stepfather," 
the  girl  said;  "and — and  by  his  unfortunate 
death  I  lost  one  of  my  best  friends." 

'  Tell  me  exactly  how  it  occurred.  I  believe 
the  tragic  event  happened  on  September  the  sec- 
ond, did  it  not?  " 

*  Yes,"  she  replied.  "  Mother  and  I  had  been 
staying  at  the  White  Hart  at  Salisbury  while  Sir 
Hugh  had  been  inspecting  some  troops.  Captain 
Bellairs  had  been  with  us,  as  usual,  but  had  been 
sent  up  to  London  by  my  stepfather.  That  same 
day  I  returned  to  London  alone  on  my  way  to  a 
visit  up  in  Yorkshire,  and  arrived  at  Hill  Street 
about  seven  o'clock.  At  a  quarter  to  ten  at  night 
I  received  an  urgent  note  from  Captain  Bellairs, 

125 


i26          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

brought  by  a  messenger,  and  written  in  a  shaky 
hand,  asking  me  to  call  at  once  at  his  chambers 
in  Half  Moon  Street.  He  explained  that  he  had 
been  taken  suddenly  ill,  and  that  he  wished  to 
see  me  upon  a  most  important  and  private  mat- 
ter. He  asked  me  to  go  to  him,  as  it  was  most 
urgent.  Mother  and  I  had  been  to  his  chambers 
to  tea  several  times  before;  therefore,  realising 
the  urgency  of  his  message,  I  found  a  taxi  and 
went  at  once  to  him." 

She  broke  off  short,  and  with  difficulty  swal- 
lowed the  lump  which  arose  in  her  throat. 

;'Well?"  asked  Fetherston  in  a  low,  sym- 
pathetic voice. 

"  When  I  arrived,"  she  said,  "  I — I  found 
him  lying  dead!  He  had  expired  just  as  I  as- 
cended the  stairs." 

"  Then  you  learned  nothing,  eh?  " 

"  Nothing,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  have 
ever  since  wondered  what  could  have  been  the 
private  matter  upon  which  he  so  particularly  de- 
sired to  see  me.  He  felt  death  creeping  upon 
him,  or — or  else  he  knew  himself  to  be  a  doomed 
man — or  he  would  never  have  penned  me  that 
note." 

"  The  letter  in  question  was  not  mentioned  at 
the  inquest? " 

"  No.    My  stepfather  urged  me  to  regard  the 


Reveals  a  Curious  Problem      127 

affair  as  a  strict  secret.  He  feared  a  scandal  be- 
cause I  had  gone  to  Harry's  rooms." 

*  You  have  no  idea,  then,  what  was  the  na- 
ture of  the  communication  which  the  captain 
wished  to  make  to  you  ?  "  asked  the  novelist. 

"  Not  the  slightest,"  replied  the  girl,  yet  with 
some  hesitation.  "  It  is  all  a  mystery — a  mystery 
which  has  ever  haunted  me — a  mystery  which 
haunts  me  now !" 

They  had  halted,  and  were  standing  together 
beneath  a  great  oak,  already  partially  bare  of 
leaves.  He  looked  into  her  beautiful  face,  sweet 
and  full  of  purity  as  a  child's.  Then,  in  a  low, 
intense  voice,  he  said:  "  Cannot  you  be  quite 
frank  with  me,  Enid — cannot  you  give  me  more 
minute  details  of  the  sad  affair?  Captain  Bel- 
lairs  was  in  his  usual  health  that  day  when  he  left 
you  at  Salisbury,  was  he  not? " 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  drove  him  to  the  station  in  our 
car." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  why  your  stepfather  sent 
him  up  to  London?  " 

"  Not  exactly,  except  that  at  breakfast  he 
said  to  my  mother  that  he  must  send  Bellairs  up 
to  London.  That  was  all." 

"  And  at  his  rooms,  whom  did  you  find? " 

"  Barker,  his  man,"  she  replied.  '  The  story 
he  told  me  was  a  curious  one,  namely,  that  his 


128          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

master  had  arrived  from  Salisbury  at  two  o'clock, 
and  at  half -past  two  had  sent  him  out  upon  a 
message  down  to  Richmond.  On  his  return,  a 
little  after  five,  he  found  his  master  absent,  but 
the  place  smelt  strongly  of  perfume,  which 
seemed  to  point  to  the  fact  that  the  captain  had 
had  a  lady  visitor." 

"  He  had  no  actual  proof  of  that?  "  exclaimed 
Fetherston,  interrupting. 

"  I  think  not.  He  surmised  it  from  the  fact 
that  his  master  disliked  scent,  even  in  his  toilet 
soap.  Again,  upon  the  table  in  the  hall  Barker's 
quick  eye  noticed  a  small  white  feather;  this  he 
showed  me,  and  it  was  evidently  from  a  feather 
boa.  In  the  fire-grate  a  letter  had  been  burnt. 
These  two  facts  had  aroused  the  man-servant's 
curiosity." 

'  What  time  did  the  captain  return?  " 

"  Almost  immediately.  He  changed  into  his 
dinner  jacket,  and  went  forth  again,  saying  that 
he  intended  to  dine  at  the  Naval  and  Military 
Club,  and  return  to  his  rooms  in  time  to  change 
and  catch  the  eleven-fifteen  train  from  Waterloo 
for  Salisbury  that  same  night.  He  even  told 
Barker  which  suit  of  clothes  to  prepare.  It  seems, 
however,  that  he  came  in  about  a  quarter-past 
nine,  and  sent  Barker  on  a  message  to  Waterloo 
Station.  On  the  man's  return  he  found  his  mas- 


Reveals  a  Curious  Problem      129 

ter  fainting  in  his  arm-chair.  He  called  Barker 
to  get  him  a  glass  of  water — his  throat  seemed 
on  fire,  he  said.  Then,  obtaining  pen  and  paper, 
he  wrote  that  hurried  message  to  me.  Barker 
stated  that  three  minutes  after  addressing  the  en- 
velope he  fell  into  a  state  of  coma,  the  only  word 
he  uttered  being  my  name."  And  she  pressed 
her  lips  together. 

"  It  is  evident,  then,  that  he  earnestly  desired 
to  speak  to  you — to  tell  you  something,"  her  com- 
panion remarked. 

'  Yes,"  she  went  on  quickly.  "  I  found  him 
lying  back  in  his  big  arm-chair,  quite  dead.  Bar- 
ker had  feared  to  leave  his  side,  and  summoned 
the  doctor  and  messenger-boy  by  telephone. 
When  I  entered,  however,  the  doctor  had  not  ar- 
rived." 

"  It  was  a  thousand  pities  that  you  were  too 
late.  He  wished  to  make  some  important  state- 
ment to  you,  without  a  doubt." 

"  I  rushed  to  him  at  once,  but,  alas!  was  just 
too  late." 

"  He  carried  that  secret,  whatever  it  was,  with 
him  to  the  grave,"  Fetherston  said  reflectively. 
"  I  wonder  what  it  could  have  been?  " 

"  Ah !  "  sighed  the  girl,  her  face  yet  paler. 
"  I  wonder — I  constantly  wonder." 

'  The  doctors  who  made  the  post-mortem 


i3°          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

could  not  account  for  the  death,  I  believe.  I 
have  read  the  account  of  the  inquest." 

"  Ah!  then  you  know  what  transpired  there/* 
the  girl  said  quickly.  "  I  was  in  court,  but  was 
not  called  as  a  witness.  There  was  no  reason 
why  I  should  be  asked  to  make  any  statement,  for 
Barker,  in  his  evidence,  made  no  mention  of  the 
letter  which  the  dead  man  had  sent  me.  I  sat 
and  heard  the  doctors — both  of  whom  expressed 
themselves  puzzled.  The  coroner  put  it  to  them 
whether  they  suspected  foul  play,  but  the  reply 
they  gave  was  a  distinctly  negative  one." 

:<  The  poor  fellow's  death  was  a  mystery,"  her 
companion  said.  "  I  noticed  that  an  open  ver- 
dict was  returned." 

'  Yes.  The  most  searching  inquiry  was  made, 
although  the  true  facts  regarding  it  were  never 
made  public.  Sir  Hugh  explained  one  day  at 
the  breakfast-table  that  in  addition  to  the  two 
doctors  who  made  the  examination  of  the  body, 
Professors  Dale  and  Boyd,  the  analysts  of  the 
Home  Office,  also  made  extensive  experiments, 
but  could  detect  no  symptom  of  poisoning." 

"  Where  he  had  dined  that  night  has  never 
been  discovered,  eh? " 

"  Never.  He  certainly  did  not  dine  at  the 
club." 

"  He  may  have  dined  with  his  lady  visitor," 


Reveals  a  Curious  Problem       131 

Fetherston  remarked,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  as  though  un- 
willing to  admit  that  Bellairs  should  have  enter- 
tained the  unknown  lady  in  secret. 

"  He  may  have  done  so,  of  course,"  she  said 
with  some  reluctance. 

'  Was  there  any  other  fact  beside  the  feather 
which  would  lead  one  to  suppose  that  a  lady  had 
visited  him?" 

"  Only  the  perfume.  Barker  declared  that  it 
was  a  sweet  scent,  such  as  he  had  never  smelt 
before.  The  whole  place  *  reeked  with  it/  as  he 
put  it." 

"  No  one  saw  the  lady  call  at  his  chambers?  " 

"  Nobody  came  forward  with  any  statement," 
replied  the  girl.  "  I  myself  made  every  inquiry 
possible,  but,  as  you  know,  a  woman  is  much 
handicapped  in  such  a  matter.  Barker,  who  was 
devoted  to  his  master,  spared  no  effort,  but  he 
has  discovered  nothing." 

"  For  aught  we  know  to  the  contrary,  Captain 
Bellairs'  death  may  have  been  due  to  perfectly 
natural  causes,"  Fetherston  remarked. 

"*It  may  have  been,  but  the  fact  of  his  mys- 
terious lady  visitor,  and  that  he  dined  at  some 
unknown  place  on  that  evening,  aroused  my  sus- 
picions. Yet  there  was  no  evidence  whatever 
either  of  poison  or  of  foul  play." 


i32          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Fetherston  raised  his  eyes  and  shot  a  covert 
glance  at  her — a  glance  of  distinct  suspicion.  His 
keen,  calm  gaze  was  upon  her,  noting  the  un- 
usual expression  upon  her  countenance,  and  how 
her  gloved  fingers  had  clenched  themselves 
slightly  as  she  had  spoken.  Was  she  telling  him 
all  that  she  knew  concerning  the  extraordinary 
affair?  That  was  the  question  which  had  arisen 
at  that  moment  within  his  mind. 

He  had  perused  carefully  the  cold,  formal  re- 
ports which  had  appeared  in  the  newspapers  con- 
cerning the  "  sudden  death  "  of  Captain  Henry 
Bellairs,  and  had  read  suspicion  between  the  lines, 
as  only  one  versed  in  mysteries  of  crime  could 
read.  Were  not  such  mysteries  the  basis  of  his 
profession?  He  had  been  first  attracted  by  it  as 
a  possible  plot  for  a  novel,  but,  on  investigation, 
had  discovered,  to  his  surprise,  that  Bellairs  had 
been  Sir  Hugh's  trusted  secretary  and  the  friend 
of  Enid  Orlebar. 

The  poor  fellow  had  died  in  a  manner  both 
sudden  and  mysterious,  as  a  good  many  persons 
die  annually.  To  the  outside  world  there  was  no 
suspicion  whatever  of  foul  play. 

Yet,  being  in  possession  of  certain  secret 
knowledge,  Fetherston  had  formed  a  theory — 
one  that  was  amazing  and  startling — a  theory 


Reveals  a  Curious  Problem      133 

which  he  had,  after  long  deliberation,  made  up 
his  mind  to  investigate  and  prove. 

This  girl  had  loved  Harry  Bellairs  before  he 
had  met  her,  and  because  of  it  the  poor  fellow 
had  fallen  beneath  the  hand  of  a  secret  assassin. 

She  stood  there  in  ignorance  that  he  had  al- 
ready seen  and  closely  questioned  Barker  in  Lon- 
don, and  that  the  man  had  made  an  admission, 
an  amazing  statement — namely,  that  the  subtle 
Eastern  perfume  upon  Enid  Orlebar,  when  she 
arrived  so  hurriedly  and  excitedly  at  Half  Moon 
Street,  was  the  same  which  had  greeted  his  nos- 
trils when  he  entered  his  master's  chambers  on 
his  return  from  that  errand  upon  which  he  had 
been  sent. 

Enid  Orlebar  had  been  in  the  captain's  rooms 
during  his  absence ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  MR.  MALTWOOD 

Now  Enid  Orlebar's  story  contained  several  dis- 
crepancies. 

She  had  declared  that  she  arrived  at  Hill 
Street  about  seven  o'clock  on  that  fateful  second 
of  September.  That  might  be  true,  but  might 
she  not  have  arrived  after  her  secret  visit  to  Half 
Moon  Street? 

In  suppressing  the  fact  that  she  had  been 
there  at  all  she  had  acted  with  considerable  fore- 
sight. Naturally,  her  parents  were  not  desirous 
of  the  fact  being  stated  publicly  that  she  had 
gone  alone  to  a  bachelor's  rooms,  and  they  had, 
therefore,  assisted  her  to  preserve  the  secret — 
known  only  to  Barker  and  to  the  doctor.  Yet  her 
evidence  had  been  regarded  as  immaterial,  hence 
she  had  not  been  called  as  witness. 

Only  Barker  had  suspected.  That  unusual 
perfume  about  her  had  puzzled  him.  Yet  how 
could  he  make  any  direct  charge  against  the  gen- 
eral's stepdaughter,  who  had  always  been  most 
generous  to  him  in  the  matter  of  tips?  Besides, 

134 


The  Mysterious  Mr.  Maltwood  135 

did  not  the  captain  write  a  note  to  her  with  his 
last  dying  effort? 

What  proof  was  there  that  the  pair  had  not 
dined  together?  Fetherston  had  already  made 
diligent  inquiries  at  Hill  Street,  and  had  discov- 
ered from  the  butler  that  Miss  Enid,  on  her  ar- 
rival home  from  Salisbury,  had  changed  her 
gown  and  gone  out  in  a  taxi  at  a  quarter  to  eight. 
She  had  dined  out — but  where  was  unknown. 

It  was  quite  true  that  she  had  come  in  before 
ten  o'clock,  and  soon  afterwards  had  received  a 
note  by  boy-messenger. 

In  view  of  these  facts  it  appeared  quite  cer- 
tain to  Fetherston  that  Enid  and  Harry  Bellairs 
had  taken  dinner  tete-a-tete  at  some  quiet  res- 
taurant. She  was  a  merry,  high-spirited  girl  to 
whom  such  an  adventure  would  certainly  appeal. 

After  dinner  they  had  parted,  and  he  had 
driven  to  his  rooms.  Then,  feeling  his  strength 
failing,  he  had  hastily  summoned  her  to  his  side. 

Why? 

If  he  had  suspected  her  of  being  the  author 
of  any  foul  play  he  most  certainly  would  not  have 
begged  her  to  come  to  him  in  his  last  moments. 
No.  The  enigma  grew  more  and  more  inscru- 
table. 

And  yet  there  was  a  motive  for  poor  Bellairs' 


136          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

tragic  end — one  which,  in  the  light  of  his  own 
knowledge,  seemed  only  too  apparent. 

He  strolled  on  beside  the  fair-faced  girl, 
deep  in  wonder.  Recollections  of  that  devil- 
may-care  cavalry  officer  who  had  been  such  a 
good  friend  clouded  her  brow,  and  as  she  walked 
her  eyes  were  cast  upon  the  ground  in  silent  re- 
flection. 

She  was  wondering  whether  Walter  Fether- 
ston  had  guessed  the  truth,  that  she  had  loved 
that  man  who  had  met  with  such  an  untimely  end. 

Her  companion,  on  his  part,  was  equally  puz- 
zled. That  story  of  Barker's  finding  a  white 
feather  was  a  curious  one.  It  was  true  that  the 
man  had  found  a  white  feather — but  he  had  also 
learnt  that  when  Enid  Orlebar  had  arrived  at 
Hill  Street  she  had  been  wearing  a  white  feather 
boa! 

"  It  is  not  curious,  after  all,"  he  said  reflec- 
tively, "  that  the  police  should  have  dismissed  the 
affair  as  a  death  from  natural  causes.  At  the  in- 
quest no  suspicion  whatever  was  aroused.  I  won- 
der why  Barker,  in  his  evidence,  made  no  men- 
tion of  that  perfume — or  of  the  discovery  of  the 
feather?  " 

And  as  he  uttered  those  words  he  fixed  his 
grave  eyes  upon  her,  watching  her  countenance 
intently. 


The  Mysterious  Mr.  Maltwood  137 

"  Well,"  she  replied,  after  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion, "  if  he  had  it  would  have  proved  nothing, 
would  it?  If  the  captain  had  received  a  lady  vis- 
itor in  secret  that  afternoon  it  might  have  had 
no  connection  with  the  circumstances  of  his  death 
six  hours  later." 

"  And  yet  it  might,"  Fetherston  remarked. 
'  What  more  natural  than  that  the  lady  who  vis- 
ited him  clandestinely — for  Barker  had,  no  doubt, 
been  sent  out  of  the  way  on  purpose  that  he 
should  not  see  her — should  have  dined  with  him 
later?" 

The  girl  moved  uneasily,  tapping  the  ground 
with  her  stick. 

'  Then  you  suspect  some  woman  of  having 
had  a  hand  in  his  death?"  she  exclaimed  in  a 
changed  voice,  her  eyes  again  cast  upon  the 
ground. 

"  I  do  not  know  sufficient  of  the  details  to 
entertain  any  distinct  suspicion,"  he  replied.  "  I 
regard  the  affair  as  a  mystery,  and  in  mysteries 
I  am  always  interested." 

'  You  intend  to  bring  the  facts  into  a  book," 
she  remarked.  "  Ah !  I  see." 

"  Perhaps — if  I  obtain  a  solution  of  the  enig- 
ma— for  enigma  it  certainly  is." 

'  You  agree  with  me,  then,  that  poor  Harry 
was  the  victim  of  foul  play?  "  she  asked  in  a  low, 


138          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

intense  voice,  eagerly  watching  his  face  the  while. 

'  Yes,"  he  answered  very  slowly ,,  "  and,  fur- 
ther, that  the  woman  who  visited  him  that  after- 
noon was  an  accessory.  Harry  Bellairs  was  mur- 
dered!" 

Her  cheeks  blanched  and  she  went  pale  to  the 
lips.  He  saw  the  sudden  change  in  her,  and  real- 
ised what  a  supreme  effort  she  was  making  to 
betray  no  undue  alarm.  But  the  effect  of  his 
cold,  calm  words  had  been  almost  electrical.  He 
watched  her  countenance  slowly  flushing,  but  pre- 
tended not  to  notice  her  confusion.  And  so  he 
walked  on  at  her  side,  full  of  wonderment. 

How  much  did  she  know  ?  Why,  indeed,  had 
Harry  Bellairs  fallen  the  victim  of  a  secret  as- 
sassin? 

No  trained  officer  of  the  Criminal  Investiga- 
tion Department  was  more  ingenious  in  making 
secret  inquiries,  more  clever  in  his  subterfuges 
or  in  disguising  his  real  objects,  than  Walter 
Fetherston.  Possessed  of  ample  means,  and 
member  of  that  secret  club  called  "  Our  Society," 
which  meets  at  intervals  and  is  the  club  of  crim- 
inologists,  and  pursuing  the  detection  of  crime 
as  a  pastime,  he  had  on  many  occasions  placed 
Scotland  Yard  and  the  Surete  in  Paris  in  pos- 
session of  information  which  had  amazed  them 
and  which  had  earned  for  him  the  high  esteem 


The  Mysterious  Mr.  Maltwood  139 

of  those  in  office  as  Ministers  of  the  Interior  in 
Paris,  Rome  and  in  London. 

The  case  of  Captain  Henry  Bellairs  he  had 
taken  up  merely  because  he  recognised  in  it  some 
unusual  circumstances,  and  without  sparing  ef- 
fort he  had  investigated  it  rapidly  and  secretly 
from  every  standpoint.  He  had  satisfied  him- 
self. Certain  knowledge  that  he  had  was  not 
possessed  by  any  officer  at  Scotland  Yard,  and 
only  by  reason  of  that  secret  knowledge  had  he 
been  able  to  arrive  at  the  definite  conclusion  that 
there  had  been  a  strong  motive  for  the  captain's 
death,  and  that  if  he  had  been  secretly  poisoned 
— which  seemed  to  be  the  case,  in  spite  of  the 
analysts'  evidence — then  he  had  been  poisoned  by 
the  velvet  hand  of  a  woman. 

Walter  Fetherston  was  ever  regretting  his 
inability  to  put  any  of  the  confidential  informa- 
tion he  acquired  into  his  books. 

"  If  I  could  only  write  half  the  truth  of  what 
I  know,  people  would  declare  it  to  be  fiction," 
he  had  often  assured  intimate  friends.  And  those 
friends  had  pondered  and  wondered  to  what  he 
referred. 

He  wrote  of  crime,  weaving  those  wonderful 
romances  which  held  breathless  his  readers  in 
every  corner  of  the  globe,  and  describing  crimi- 
nals and  life's  undercurrents  with  such  fidelity 


The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

that  even  criminals  themselves  had  expressed 
wonder  as  to  how  and  whence  he  obtained  his  ac- 
curate information. 

But  the  public  were  in  ignorance  that,  in  his 
character  of  Mr.  Maltwood,  he  pursued  a  strange 
profession,  one  which  was  fraught  with  more  ro- 
mance and  excitement  than  any  other  calling  a 
man  could  adopt.  In  comparison  with  his  life 
that  of  a  detective  was  really  a  tame  one;  while 
such  success  had  he  obtained  that  in  a  certain  im- 
portant official  circle  in  London  he  was  held  in 
highest  esteem  and  frequently  called  into  con- 
sultation. 

Walter  Fetherston,  the  quiet,  reticent  novel- 
ist, was  entirely  different  from  the  gay,  devil- 
may-care  Maltwood,  the  accomplished  linguist, 
thorough-going  cosmopolitan  and  constant  trav- 
eller, the  easy-going  man  of  means  known  in  so- 
ciety in  every  European  capital. 

Because  of  this  his  few  friends  who  were 
aware  of  his  dual  personality  were  puzzled. 

At  the  girl's  side  he  strode  on  along  the  road 
which  still  led  through  the  wood,  the  road  over 
which  every  evening  rumbled  the  old  post-dili- 
gence on  its  way  through  the  quaint  old  town  of 
Etain  to  the  railway  at  Spincourt.  On  that  very 
road  a  battalion  of  Uhlans  had  been  annihilated 


The  Mysterious  Mr.  Maltwood   141 

almost  to  a  man  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Great 
War. 

Every  metre  they  trod  was  historic  ground — 
ground  which  had  been  contested  against  the  le- 
gions of  the  Crown  Prince's  army. 

For  some  time  neither  spoke.  At  last  Walter 
asked :  *  Your  stepfather  has  been  up  to  the 
fortress  with  Monsieur  Le  Pontois,  I  suppose?  " 
'  Yes,  once  or  twice,"  was  her  reply,  eager 
to  change  the  subject.  "  Of  course,  to  a  soldier, 
fortifications  and  suchlike  things  are  always  of 
interest." 

"  I  saw  them  walking  up  to  the  fortress  to- 
gether the  other  day,"  he  remarked  with  a  casual 
air. 

11  What?  "  she  asked  quickly.  "  Have  you 
been  here  before?" 

"  Once,"  he  laughed.  "  I  came  over  from 
Commercy  and  spent  the  day  in  your  vicinity  in 
the  hope  that  I  might  perhaps  meet  you  alone 
accidentally." 

He  did  not  tell  her  that  he  had  watched  her 
shopping  with  Madame  Le  Pontois,  or  that  he 
had  spent  several  days  at  a  small  auberge  at  the 
tiny  village  of  Marcheville-en-Woevre,  only  two 
miles  distant. 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  that,"  she  replied,  her  face 
flushing  slightly. 


142          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  When  do  you  return  to  London? "  he  asked. 

"  I  hardly  know.  Certainly  not  before  next 
Thursday,  as  we  have  amateur  theatricals  at  Gen- 
eral Molon's.  I  am  playing  the  part  of  Miss 
Smith,  the  English  governess,  in  Darbour's  com- 
edy, Le  Pyree" 

"  And  then  you  return  to  London,  eh? " 

"  I  hardly  know.  Yesterday  I  had  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Caldwell  saying  that  she  contemplated 
going  to  Italy  this  winter;  therefore,  perhaps 
mother  will  let  me  go.  I  wrote  to  her  this  morn- 
ing. The  proposal  is  to  spend  part  of  the  time 
in  Italy,  and  then  cross  from  Naples  to  Egypt. 
I  love  Egypt.  We  were  there  some  winters  ago, 
at  the  Winter  Palace  at  Luxor." 

'Your  father  and  mother  will  remain  at 
home,  I  suppose? " 

"  Mother  hates  travelling  nowadays.  She 
says  she  had  quite  sufficient  of  living  abroad  in 
my  father's  lifetime.  We  were  practically  exiled 
for  years,  you  know.  I  was  born  in  Lima,  and  I 
never  saw  England  till  I  was  eleven.  The  Diplo- 
matic Service  takes  one  so  out  of  touch  with 
home." 

"  But  Sir  Hugh  will  go  abroad  this  winter, 
eh?" 

"  I  have  not  heard  him  speak  of  it.  I  believe 
he's  too  busy  at  the  War  Office  just  now.  They 


The  Mysterious  Mr.  Maltwood   143 

have  some  more  '  reforms  '  in  progress,  I  hear," 
and  she  smiled. 

He  was  looking  straight  into  the  girl's  hand- 
some face,  his  heart  torn  between  love  and  sus- 
picion. 

Those  days  at  Biarritz  recurred  to  him ;  how 
he  would  watch  for  her  and  go  and  meet  her 
down  towards  Grande  Plage,  till,  by  degrees,  it 
had  become  to  both  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world.  On  those  rare  evenings  when  they  did 
not  meet  the  girl  was  conscious  of  a  little  feeling 
of  disappointment  which  she  was  too  shy  to  own, 
even  to  her  own  heart. 

Walter  Fetherston  owned  it  freely  enough. 
In  that  bright  springtime  the  day  was  incom- 
plete unless  he  saw  her;  and  he  knew  that,  even 
now,  every  hour  was  making  her  grow  dearer  to 
him.  From  that  chance  meeting  at  the  hotel  their 
friendship  had  grown,  and  had  ripened  into  some- 
thing warmer,  dearer — a  secret  held  closely  in 
each  heart,  but  none  the  less  sweet  for  that. 

After  leaving  Biarritz  the  man  had  torn  him- 
self from  her — why,  he  hardly  knew.  Only  he 
felt  upon  him  some  fatal  fascination,  strong  and 
irresistible.  It  was  the  first  time  in  his  life  that 
he  had  been  what  is  vulgarly  known  as  "  over 
head  and  ears  in  love." 

He  returned  to  England,  and  then,  a  month 


ii44          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

later,  his  investigation  of  Henry  Bellairs'  death, 
for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  a  plot  for  a  new 
novel  he  contemplated,  revealed  to  him  a  stagger- 
ing and  astounding  truth. 

Even  then,  in  face  of  that  secret  knowledge 
he  had  gained,  he  had  been  powerless,  and  he  had 
gone  up  to  Monifieth  deliberately  again  to  meet 
her — to  be  drawn  again  beneath  the  spell  of 
those  wonderful  eyes. 

There  was  love  in  the  man's  heart.  But  some- 
times it  embittered  him.  It  did  at  that  moment, 
as  they  strolled  still  onward  over  that  carpet  of 
moss  and  fallen  leaves.  He  had  loved  her,  as  he 
believed  her  to  be  a  woman  with  heart  and  soul 
too  pure  to  harbour  an  evil  thought.  But  her 
story  of  the  death  of  poor  Bellairs,  the  man  who 
had  loved  her,  had  convinced  him  that  his  suspi- 
cions were,  alasl  only  too  well  grounded. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WHAT   CONFESSION   WOULD   MEAN 

A  SILENCE  had  fallen  between  the  pair.  Again 
Walter  Fetherston  glanced  at  her. 

She  was  an  outdoor  girl  to  the  tips  of  her 
fingers.  At  shooting  parties  she  went  out  with 
the  guns,  not  merely  contenting  herself,  as  did 
the  other  girls,  to  motor  down  with  the  luncheon 
for  the  men.  She  never  got  dishevelled  or  un- 
tidy, and  her  trim  tweed  skirt  and  serviceable 
boots  never  made  her  look  unwomanly.  She  was 
her  dainty  self  out  in  the  country  with  the  men, 
just  as  in  the  pretty  drawing-room  at  Hill  Street, 
while  her  merry  laugh  evoked  more  smiles  and 
witticisms  than  the  more  studied  attempts  at  wit 
of  the  others.  / 

At  that  moment  she  had  noticed  the  change 
in  the  man  she  had  so  gradually  grown  to  love, 
and  her  heart  was  beating  in  wild  tumult. 

He,  on  his  part,  was  hating  himself  for  so 
foolishly  allowing  her  to  steal  into  his  heart. 
She  had  lied  to  him  there,  just  as  she  had  lied  to 
him  at  Biarritz.  And  yet  he  had  been  a  fool,  and 

145 


The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

had  allowed  himself  to  be  drawn  back  to  her  side. 

Why?  he  asked  himself.  Why?  There  was 
a  reason,  a  strong  reason.  He  loved  her,  and 
the  reason  he  was  at  that  moment  at  her  side  was 
to  save  her,  to  rescue  her  from  a  fate  which  he 
knew  must  sooner  or  later  befall  her. 

She  made  some  remark,  but  he  only  replied 
mechanically.  His  countenance  had,  she  saw, 
changed  and  become  paler.  His  lips  were  pressed 
together,  and,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  case,  he 
asked  her  permission  to  smoke,  and  viciously  bit 
off  its  end.  Something  had  annoyed  him.  Was 
it  possible  that  he  held  any  suspicion  of  the 
ghastly  truth? 

The  real  fact,  however,  was  that  he  was  calm- 
ly and  deliberately  contemplating  tearing  her 
from  his  heart  for  ever  as  an  object  of  suspicion 
and  worthless.  He,  who  had  never  yet  fallen  be- 
neath a  woman's  thraldom,  resolved  not  to  enter 
blindly  the  net  she  had  spread  for  him.  His 
thoughts  were  hard  and  bitter — the  thoughts  of 
a  man  who  had  loved  passionately,  but  whose  idol 
had  suddenly  been  shattered. 

Again  she  spoke,  remarking  that  it  was  time 
she  turned  back,  for  already  they  were  at  the 
opposite  end  of  the  wood,  with  a  beautiful  pano- 
rama of  valley  and  winding  river  spread  before 
them.  But  he  only  answered  a  trifle  abruptly, 


What  Confession  would  Mean    147 

and,  acting  upon  her  suggestion,  turned  and  re- 
traced his  steps  in  silence. 

At  last,  as  though  suddenly  rousing  himself, 
he  turned  to  her,  and  said  in  an  apologetic  tone: 
"  I  fear,  Enid,  I've  treated  you  rather — well, 
rather  uncouthly.  I  apologise.  I  was  thinking 
of  something  else — a  somewhat  serious  matter." 

"  I  knew  you  were,"  she  laughed,  affecting 
to  treat  the  matter  lightly.  "  You  scarcely  re- 
plied to  me." 

"  Forgive  me,  won't  you?"  he  asked,  smiling 
again  in  his  old  way. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said.  "  But — but  is  the 
matter  very  serious?  Does  it  concern  yourself?  " 

'  Yes,  Enid,  it  does,"  he  answered. 

And  still  she  walked  on,  her  eyes  cast  down, 
much  puzzled. 

Two  woodmen  passed  on  their  way  home  from 
work,  and  raised  their  caps  politely,  while  Walter 
acknowledged  their  salutation  in  French. 

"  I  shall  probably  leave  here  to-morrow,"  her 
companion  said  as  they  walked  back  to  the  high 
road.  "  I  am  not  yet  certain  until  I  receive  my 
letters  to-night." 

'  You  are  now  going  back  to  your  village  inn, 
I  suppose,"  she  laughed  cheerfully. 

'  Yes,"  he  said.  "  My  host  is  an  interesting 
old  countryman,  and  has  told  me  quite  a  lot  about 


148          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  war.  He  was  wounded  when  the  Germans 
shelled  Verdun.  He  has  told  me  that  he  knows 
Paul  Le  Pontois,  for  his  son  Jean  is  his  serv> 
ant." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Fetherston,  you  are  really  ubiqui- 
tous," cried  the  girl  in  confusion.  '  Why  have 
you  been  watching  us  like  this  ?  " 

"  Merely  because  I  wished  to  see  you,  as  IVe 
already  explained,"  was  his  reply.  "  I  wanted 
to  ask  you  those  questions  which  I  have  put  to 
you  this  afternoon." 

"  About  poor  Harry? "  she  remarked  in  a 
hoarse,  low  voice.  "  But  you  begged  me  to  re- 
ply to  you  in  my  own  interests — why?  " 

"  Because  I  wished  to  know  the  real  truth." 

"  Well,  I've  told  you  the  truth,"  she  said  with 
just  the  slightest  tinge  of  defiance  in  her  voice. 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  speak.  He  had 
halted ;  his  grave  eyes  were  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Have  you  told  me  the  whole  truth — all  that 
you  know,  Enid?  '*  he  asked  very  quietly  a  mo- 
ment later. 

'  What  more  should  I  know?  "  she  protested 
after  a  second's  hesitation. 

"  How  can  I  tell?"  he  asked  quickly.  "  I 
only  ask  you  to  place  me  in  possession  of  all  the 
facts  within  your  knowledge." 

"  Why  do  you  ask  me  this  ?  "  she  cried.    "  Is  it 


What  Confession  would  Mean    149 

out  of  mere  idle  curiosity?  Or  is  it  because — be- 
cause, knowing  that  Harry  loved  me,  you  wish  to 
cause  me  pain  by  recalling  those  tragic  circum- 
stances? " 

"  Neither,"  was  his  quiet  answer  in  a  low, 
sympathetic  voice.  "  I  am  your  friend,  Enid. 
And  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will  assist  you." 

She  held  her  breath.  He  spoke  as  though 
he  were  aware  of  the  truth — that  she  had  not  told 
him  everything — that  she  was  still  concealing  cer- 
tain important  and  material  facts. 

"  I — I  know  you  are  my  friend,"  she  faltered. 
"  I  have  felt  that  all  along,  ever  since  our  first 
meeting.  But — but  forgive  me,  I  beg  of  you. 
The  very  remembrance  of  that  night  of  the  sec- 
ond of  September  is,  to  me,  horrible — horrible." 

To  him  those  very  words  of  hers  increased  his 
suspicion.  Was  it  any  wonder  that  she  was  hor- 
rified when  she  recalled  that  gruesome  episode  of 
the  death  of  a  brave  and  honest  man?  Her  per- 
sonal fascination  had  overwhelmed  Harry  Bel- 
lairs,  just  as  it  had  overwhelmed  himself.  The 
devil  sends  some  women  into  the  hearts  of  up- 
right men  to  rend  and  destroy  them. 

Upon  her  cheeks  had  spread  a  deadly  pallor, 
while  in  the  centre  of  each  showed  a  scarlet  spot. 
Her  heart  was  torn  by  a  thousand  emotions,  for 
the  image  of  that  man  whom  she  had  seen  lying 


The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

cold  and  dead  in  his  room  had  arisen  before  her 
vision,  blotting  out  everything.  The  hideous  re- 
membrance of  that  fateful  night  took  possession 
of  her  soul. 

In  silence  they  walked  on  for  a  considerable 
time.  Now  and  then  a  rabbit  scuttled  from  their 
path  into  the  undergrowth  or  the  alarm-cry  of 
a  bird  broke  the  evening  stillness,  until  at  last 
they  came  forth  into  the  wide  highway,  their  faces 
set  towards  the  autumn  sunset. 

Suddenly  the  man  spoke. 

"  Have  you  heard  of  the  doctor  since  you  left 
London? "  he  asked. 

She  held  her  breath — only  for  a  single  second. 
But  her  hesitation  was  sufficient  to  show  him  that 
she  intended  to  conceal  the  truth. 

"  No,"  was  her  reply.  "  He  has  not  written 
to  me." 

Again  he  was  silent.  There  was  a  reason — a 
strong  reason — why  Weirmarsh  should  not  write 
to  her,  he  knew.  But  he  had,  by  his  question, 
afforded  her  an  opportunity  of  telling  him  the 
truth — the  truth  that  the  mysterious  George 
Weirmarsh  was  there,  in  that  vicinity.  That 
Enid  was  aware  of  that  fact  was  certain  to  him. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  wish  you  would 
call  at  the  chateau  and  allow  me  to  introduce  you 


uWhat  Confession  would  Mean 

to  Paul  and  his  wife.  They  would  be  charmed 
to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  Thank  you,"  he  replied  a  trifle  coldly;  "  I'd 
rather  not  know  them — in  the  present  circum- 
stances." 

*  Why,  how  strange  you  are ! "  the  girl  ex- 
claimed, looking  up  into  his  face,  so  dark  and 
serious.  "  I  don't  see  why  you  should  entertain 
such  an  aversion  to  being  introduced  to  Paul. 
He's  quite  a  dear  fellow." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  a  foolish  reluctance  on  my 
part,"  he  laughed  uneasily.  "  But,  somehow,  I 
feel  that  to  remain  away  from  the  chateau  is  best. 
Remember,  your  stepfather  and  your  mother  are 
in  ignorance  of — well,  of  the  fact  that  we  regard 
each  other  as — as  more  than  close  friends.  For 
the  present  it  is  surely  best  that  I  should  not  visit 
your  relations.  Relations  are  often  very  prompt 
to  divine  the  real  position  of  affairs.  Parents 
may  be  blind,"  he  laughed,  "  but  brothers-in-law 


never." 


'  You  are  always  so  dreadfully  philosophi- 
cal! "  the  girl  cried,  glad  that  at  last  that  painful 
topic  of  conversation  had  been  changed.  "  Paul 
Le  Pontois  wouldn't  eat  you!  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  any  Frenchman  is  given  to 
cannibalistic  diet,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  But 


152          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  fact  is,  I  have  my  reasons  for  not  being  intro- 
duced to  the  Le  Pontois  family  just  now." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  sharply,  surprised  at 
the  tone  of  his  response.  She  tried  to  divine  its 
meaning.  But  his  countenance  still  bore  that 
sphinx-like  expression  which  so  often  caused  his 
friends  to  entertain  vague  suspicions. 

Few  men  could  read  character  better  than 
Walter  Fetherston.  To  him  the  minds  of  most 
men  and  women  he  met  were  as  an  open  book. 
To  a  marvellous  degree  had  he  cultivated  his 
power  of  reading  the  inner  working  of  the  mind 
by  the  expression  in  the  eyes  and  on  the  faces  of 
even  those  hard-headed  diplomats  and  men  ofi 
business  whom,  in  his  second  character  of  Mr. 
Maltwood,  he  so  frequently  met.  Few  men  or 
women  could  tell  him  a  deliberate  lie  without  its 
instant  detection.  Most  shrewd  men  possess  that 
power  to  a  greater  or  less  degree — a  power  that 
can  be  developed  by  painstaking  application  and 
practice. 

Enid  asked  her  companion  when  they  were  to 
meet  again. 

"  At  least  let  me  see  you  before  you  go  from 
here,"  she  said.  "  I  know  what  a  rapid  traveller 
you  always  are." 

'  Yes,"  he  sighed.    "I'm  often  compelled  to 
make  quick  journeys  from  one  part  of  the  Conti- 


What  Confession  would  Mean    153 

nent  to  the  other.  I  am  a  constant  traveller — 
too  constant,  perhaps,  for  I've  nowadays  grown 
very  world-weary  and  restless." 

*  Well,"   she   exclaimed,   "  if  you   will  not 
come  to  the  chateau,  where  shall  we  meet?  " 

"  I  will  write  to  you,"  he  replied.  "  At  this 
moment  my  movements  are  most  uncertain — they 
depend  almost  entirely  upon  the  movements  of 
others.  At  any  moment  I  may  be  called  away. 
But  a  letter  to  Holies  Street  will  always  find  me, 
you  know." 

He  seemed  unusually  serious  and  strangely 
preoccupied,  she  thought.  She  noticed,  too,  that 
he  had  flung  away  his  half -consumed  cigar  in  im- 
patience, and  that  he  had  rubbed  his  chin  with 
his  left  hand,  a  habit  of  his  when  puzzled. 

At  the  crossroads  where  the  leafless  poplars 
ran  in  straight  lines  towards  the  village  of  Fres- 
nes,  a  big  red  motor-car  passed  them  at  a  tear- 
ing pace,  and  in  it  Enid  recognised  General 
Molon. 

Fetherston,  although  an  ardent  motorist  him- 
self, cursed  the  driver  under  his  breath  for  be- 
spattering them  with  mud.  Then,  with  a  word 
of  apology  to  his  charming  companion,  he  held 
her  gloved  hand  for  a  moment  in  his. 

Their  parting  was  not  prolonged.  The  man's 
lips  were  thin  and  hard,  for  his  resolve  was  firm. 


154          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

This  girl  whom  he  had  grown  to  love — who 
was  the  very  sunshine  of  his  strange,  adventur- 
ous life — was,  he  had  at  last  realised,  unworthy. 
If  he  was  to  live,  if  the  future  was  to  have  hope 
and  joy  for  him,  he  must  tear  her  out  of  his  life. 

Therefore  he  bade  her  adieu,  refusing  to  give 
her  any  tryst  for  the  morrow. 

"  It  is  all  so  uncertain,"  he  repeated.  '  You 
will  write  to  me  in  London  if  you  do  not  hear 
from  me,  won't  you? " 

She  nodded,  but  scarce  a  word,  save  a  mur- 
mured farewell,  escaped  her  dry  lips. 

He  was  changed,  sadly  changed,  she  knew. 
She  turned  from  him  with  overflowing  heart,  sti- 
fling her  tears,  but  with  a  veritable  volcano  of 
emotion  within  her  young  breast. 

He  had  changed — changed  entirely  and  ut- 
terly in  that  brief  hour  and  a  half  they  had 
walked  together.  What  had  she  said?  What 
had  she  done?  she  asked  herself. 

Forward  she  went  blindly  with  the  blood-red 
light  of  the  glorious  sunset  full  in  her  hard-set 
face,  the  great  fortress-crowned  hills  looming  up 
before  her,  a  barrier  between  herself  and  the  be- 
yond! They  looked  grey,  dark,  mysterious  as 
her  own  future. 

She  glanced  back,  but  he  had  turned  upon 


Wv>t  Confession  would  Mean    155 

his  heel,  and  she  now  saw  his  retreating  figure 
swinging  along  the  straight,  broad  highway. 

Why  had  he  treated  her  thus?  Was  it  pos- 
sible, she  reflected,  that  he  had  actually  become 
aware  of  the  ghastly  truth?  Had  he  divined  it? 

"  If  he  has,"  she  cried  aloud  in  an  agony  of 
soul,  "  then  no  wonder — no  wonder,  indeed,  that 
he  has  cast  me  from  his  life  as  a  criminal — as 
a  woman  to  be  avoided  as  the  plague — that  he  has 
said  good-bye  to  me  for  ever!  " 

Her  lips  trembled,  and  the  corners  of  her 
pretty  mouth  hardened. 

She  turned  again  to  watch  the  man's  disap- 
pearing figure. 

"  I  would  go  back,"  she  cried  in  despair, 
"  back  to  him,  and  beg  his  forgiveness  upon  my 
knees.  I  love  him — love  him  better  than  my  life ! 
Yet  to  crave  forgiveness  would  be  to  confess — to 
tell  all  I  know — the  whole  awful  truth!  And  I 
can't  do  that — no,  never!  God  help  me!  I — I 
-I— can't  do  that!" 

And  bursting  into  a  flood  of  hot  tears,  she 
stood  rigid,  her  small  hands  clenched,  still  watch- 
ing him  until  he  disappeared  from  her  sight 
around  the  bend  of  the  road. 

"  No,"  she  murmured  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice, 
still  speaking  to  herself,  "  confession  would  mean 
death.  Rather  than  admit  the  truth  I  would  take 


156          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

my  own  life.  I  would  kill  myself,  yes,  face  death 
freely  and  willingly,  rather  than  he — the  man  I 
love  so  well — should  learn  Sir  Hugh's  disgrace- 
ful secret." 


CHAPTER  XV 

THREE   GENTLEMEN    FROM    PARIS 

GASTON  D  ARBOUR'S  comedy,  Le  Pyree,  had  been 
played  to  a  large  audience  assembled  in  one  of 
the  bigger  rooms  of  the  long  whitewashed  artil- 
lery barracks  outside  Ronvaux,  where  General 
Molon  had  his  official  residence. 

The  humorous  piece  had  been  applauded  to 
the  echo — the  audience  consisting  for  the  most 
part  of  military  officers  in  uniform  and  their 
wives  and  daughters,  with  a  sprinkling  of  the 
better-class  civilians  from  the  various  chateaux 
in  the  neighbourhood,  together  with  two  or  three 
aristocratic  parties  from  Longuyon,  Spincourt, 
and  other  places. 

The  honours  of  the  evening  had  fallen  to  the 
young  English  girl  who  had  played  the  amusing 
part  of  the  demure  governess,  Miss  Smith — pro- 
nounced by  the  others  "  Mees  Smeeth."  Enid 
was  passionately  fond  of  dramatic  art,  and  be- 
longed to  an  amateur  club  in  London.  Among 
those  present  were  the  author  of  the  piece  him- 
self, a  dark  young  man  with  smooth  hair  parted 

157 


158          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

in  the  centre  and  wearing  an  exaggerated  black 
cravat. 

When  the  curtain  fell  the  audience  rose  to 
chatter  and  comment,  and  were  a  long  time  before 
they  dispersed.  Paul  Le  Pontois  waited  for 
Enid,  Sir  Hugh  accompanying  Blanche  and  little 
Ninette  home  in  the  hired  brougham.  As  the 
party  had  a  long  distance  to  go,  some  twelve  kilo- 
metres, General  Molon  had  lent  Le  Pontois  his 
motor-car,  which  now  stood  awaiting  him  with 
glaring  headlights  in  the  barrack-square. 

As  the  hall  emptied  Paul  glanced  around  him 
while  awaiting  ,Enid.  On  the  walls  the  French 
tricolour  was  everywhere  displayed,  the  revered 
drapeau  under  which  he  had  so  gallantly  and 
nobly  served  against  the  Huns. 

He  presented  a  spruce  appearance  in  his 
smart,  well-cut  evening  coat,  with  the  red  button 
of  the  Legion  d'Honneur  in  his  lapel,  and  to  the 
ladies  who  wished  him  "  bon  soir  "  as  they  filed 
out  he  drew  his  heels  together  and  bowed  gal- 
lantly. 

Outside,  the  night  was  cloudy  and  overcast. 
In  the  long  rows  of  the  barrack  windows  lights 
shone,  and  somewhere  sounded  a  bugle,  while  in 
the  shadows  could  be  heard  the  measured  tramp 
of  sentries,  the  clank  of  spurs,  or  the  click  of 
rifles  as  they  saluted  their  officers  passing  out. 


Three  Gentlemen  from  Paris 

The  whole  atmosphere  was  a  military  one,  for, 
indeed,  the  little  town  of  Ronvaux  is,  even  in 
these  peace  days,  scarcely  more  than  a  huge  camp. 

For  a  few  minutes  Le  Pontois  stood  chatting 
to  a  group  of  men  at  the  door.  They  had  invited 
him  to  come  across  to  their  quarters,  but  he  had 
explained  that  he  was  awaiting  mademoiselle.  So 
they  raised  their  eyebrows,  smiled  mischievously, 
and  bade  him  "  bon  soir." 

Soldiers  were  already  stacking  up  the  chairs 
ready  for  the  clearance  of  the  gymnasium  for  the 
morrow.  Others  were  coming  to  water  and  sweep 
out  the  place.  Therefore  Le  Pontois  remained 
outside  in  the  square,  waiting  in  patience. 

He  was  reflecting.  That  evening,  as  he  had 
sat  with  his  wife  watching  the  play,  he  had  been 
seized  by  a  curious  feeling  for  which  he  entirely 
failed  to  account.  Behind  him  there  had  sat  a 
man  and  a  woman,  French  without  a  doubt,  but 
entire  strangers.  They  must,  of  course,  have 
known  one  or  other  of  the  officers  in  order  to  ob- 
tain an  admission  ticket.  Nevertheless,  they  had 
spoken  to  no  one,  and  on  the  fall  of  the  curtain 
had  entered  a  brougham  in  waiting  and  driven 
off. 

Paul  had  made  no  comment.  By  a  sudden 
chance  he  had,  during  the  entr'acte,  risen  and 
gazed  around,  when  the  face  of  the  stranger  had 


160          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

caught  his  eyes — a  face  which  he  felt  was  curi- 
ously familiar,  yet  he  could  not  place  it.  The 
middle-aged  man  was  dressed  with  quiet  elegance, 
clean-shaven  and  keen-faced,  apparently  a  pros- 
perous civilian,  while  the  lady  with  him  was  of 
about  the  same  age  and  apparently  his  wife.  She 
was  dressed  in  a  high-necked  dress  of  black  lace, 
and  wore  in  her  corsage  a  large  circular  ornament 
of  diamonds  and  emeralds. 

Twice  had  Le  Pontois  taken  furtive  glances 
at  the  stranger  whose  lined  brow  was  so  extraor- 
dinarily familiar.  It  was  the  face  of  a  deep 
thinker,  a  man  who  had,  perhaps,  passed  through 
much  trouble.  Was  it  possible,  he  wondered,  that 
he  had  seen  that  striking  face  in  some  photo- 
graph, or  perhaps  in  some  illustrated  paper?  He 
had  racked  his  brain  through  the  whole  perform- 
ance, but  could  not  decide  in  what  circumstances 
they  had  previously  met. 

From  time  to  time  the  stranger  had  joined 
with  the  audience  in  their  hearty  laughter,  or  ap- 
plauded as  vociferously  as  the  others,  his  com- 
panion being  equally  amused  at  the  quaint  say- 
ings of  the  demure  "  Mees  Smeeth." 

And  even  as  he  stood  in  the  shadows  near  the 
general's  car  awaiting  Enid  he  was  still  wonder- 
ing who  the  pair  might  be. 

At  the  fall  of  the  curtain  he  had  made  several 


Three  Gentlemen  from  Paris     161 

inquiries  of  the  officers,  but  nobody  could  give 
him  any  information.  They  were  complete  stran- 
gers— that  was  all.  Even  a  search  among  the 
cards  of  invitation  had  revealed  nothing. 

So  Paul  Le  Pontois  remained  mystified. 

Enid  came  at  last,  flushed  with  success  and 
apologetic  because  she  had  kept  him  waiting. 
But  he  only  congratulated  her,  and  assisted  her 
into  the  car.  It  was  a  big  open  one,  therefore 
she  wore  a  thick  motor  coat  and  veil  as  protection 
against  the  chill  autumn  night. 

A  moment  later  the  soldier-chauffeur  mount- 
ed to  his  seat,  and  slowly  they  moved  across  the 
great  square  and  out  by  the  gates,  where  the  sen- 
tries saluted.  Then,  turning  to  the  right,  they 
were  quickly  tearing  along  the  highway  in  the 
darkness. 

Soon  they  overtook  several  closed  carriages 
of  the  home-going  visitors,  and,  ascending  the 
hill,  turned  from  the  main  road  down  into  a  by- 
road leading  through  a  wooded  valley,  which  was 
a  short  cut  to  the  chateau. 

Part  of  their  way  led  through  the  great  Foret 
d'Amblonville,  and  though  Enid's  gay  chatter 
was  mostly  of  the  play,  the  defects  in  the  acting 
and  the  several  amusing  contretemps  which  had 
occurred  behind  the  scenes,  her  companion's 


162          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

thoughts  were  constantly  of  that  stranger  whose 
brow  was  so  deeply  lined  with  care. 

They  expected  to  overtake  Sir  Hugh  in  the 
brougham,  but  so  long  had  Enid  been  changing 
her  gown  that  they  saw  nothing  of  the  others. 

Just,  however,  as  they  were  within  a  hundred 
yards  or  so  of  the  gates  which  gave  entrance  to 
the  chateau,  and  were  slowing  down  in  order  to 
swing  into  the  drive,  a  man  emerged  from  the 
darkness,  calling  upon  the  driver  to  stop,  and, 
placing  himself  before  the  car,  held  up  his  hands. 

Next  instant  the  figure  of  a  second  individual 
appeared.  Enid  uttered  a  cry  of  alarm,  but  the 
second  man,  who  wore  a  hard  felt  hat  and  dark 
overcoat,  reassured  her  by  saying  in  French : 

"  Pray  do  not  distress  yourself,  mademoiselle. 
There  is  no  cause  for  alarm.  My  friend  and  I 
merely  wish  to  speak  for  a  moment  with  Mon- 
sieur Le  Pontois  before  he  enters  his  house.  For 
that  reason  we  have  presumed  to  stop  your  car." 

"  But  who  are  you  ?  "  demanded  Le  Pontois 
angrily.  '  Who  are  you  that  you  should  hold  us 
up  like  this?" 

"  Perhaps,  m'sieur,  it  would  be  better  if  you 
descended  and  escorted  mademoiselle  as  far  as 
your  gates.  We  wish  to  speak  to  you  for  a  mo- 
ment upon  a  little  matter  which  is  both  urgent 
and  private." 


Three  Gentlemen  from  Paris     163 

'*  Well,  cannot  you  speak  here,  now,  and  let 
us  proceed? " 

"  Not  before  mademoiselle,"  replied  the  man. 
"  It  is  a  confidential  matter." 

Paul,  much  puzzled  at  the  curious  demeanour 
of  the  strangers,  reluctantly  handed  Enid  out, 
and  walked  with  her  as  far  as  his  own  gate,  tell- 
ing her  to  assure  Blanche  that  he  would  return 
in  a  few  moments,  when  he  had  heard  what  the 
men  wanted. 

'  Very  well,"  she  laughed.  "  I'll  say  nothing. 
You  can  tell  her  all  when  you  come  in." 

The  girl  passed  through  the  gates  and  up  the 
gravelled  drive  to  the  house,  when  Le  Pontois, 
turning  upon  his  heel  to  return  to  the  car,  was 
met  by  the  two  men,  who,  he  found,  had  walked 
closely  behind  him. 

"  You  are  Paul  Le  Pontois? "  inquired  the 
elder  of  the  pair  brusquely. 

"  Of  course !   Why  do  you  ask  that? " 

"  Because  it  is  necessary,"  was  his  business- 
like reply.  Then  he  added :  <;<  I  regret,  m'sieur, 
that  you  must  consider  yourself  under  arrest  by 
order  of  his  Excellency  the  Minister  of  Justice." 

"  Arrest!  "  gasped  the  unhappy  man.    "  Are 
rou  mad,  messieurs? " 

"  No,"   replied   the  man  who  had   spoken. 


164          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  We  have  merely  our  duty  to  perform,  and  have 
travelled  from  Paris  to  execute  it." 

"  With  what  offence  am  I  charged?  "  Le  Pon- 
tais  demanded. 

"  Of  that  we  have  no  knowledge.  As  agents 
of  secret  police,  we  are  sent  here  to  convey  you 
for  interrogation." 

The  man  under  arrest  stood  dumbfounded. 

"  But  at  least  you  will  allow  me  to  say  fare- 
well to  my  wife  and  child — to  make  excuse  to 
them  for  my  absence?  "  he  urged. 

"  I  regret  that  is  quite  impossible,  m'sieur. 
Our  orders  are  to  make  the  arrest  and  to  afford 
you  no  opportunity  to  communicate  with  any- 


one." 


"  But  this  is  cruel,  inhuman!  His  Excellency 
never  meant  that,  I  am  quite  sure — especially 
when  I  am  innocent  of  any  crime,  as  far  as  I  am 
aware." 

"  We  can  only  obey  our  orders,  m'sieur,"  re- 
plied the  man  in  the  dark  overcoat. 

'  Then  may  I  not  write  a  line  to  my  wife,  just 
one  word  of  excuse?  "  he  pleaded. 

The  two  police  agents  consulted. 

'  Well,"  replied  the  elder  of  the  pair,  who 
was  the  one  in  authority,  "  if  you  wish  to  scrib- 
ble a  note,  here  are  paper  and  pencil."  And  he 


Three  Gentlemen  from  Paris     165 

tore  a  leaf  from  his  notebook  and  handed  it  to 
the  prisoner. 

By  the  light  of  the  head-lamps  of  the  car  Paul 
scribbled  a  few  hurried  words  to  Blanche:  "  I 
am  detained  on  important  business,"  he  wrote. 
"  I  will  return  to-morrow.  My  love  to  you  both. 
—PAUL." 

The  detective  read  it,  folded  it  carefully,  and 
handed  it  to  his  assistant,  telling  him  to  go  up 
to  the  chateau  and  deliver  it  at  the  servants'  en- 
trance. 

When  he  had  gone  the  detective,  turning 
to  the  chauffeur,  said:  "  I  shall  require  you  to 
take  us  to  Verdun." 

'  This  is  not  my  car,  m'sieur,"  replied  Paul. 
"It  belongs  to  General  Molon." 

'  That  does  not  matter.  I  will  telephone  to 
him  an  explanation  as  soon  as  we  arrive  in  Ver- 
dun. We  may  as  well  enter  the  car  as  stand 
here." 

Paul  Le  Pontois  was  about  to  protest,  but 
what  could  he  say?  The  Minister  in  Paris  had 
apparently  committed  some  grave  error  in  thus 
ordering  his  arrest.  No  doubt  there  would  be 
confusion,  apologies  and  laughter.  So,  with  a 
light  heart  at  the  knowledge  that  he  had  com- 
mitted no  offence,  he  got  into  the  car,  and  allowed 
the  polite  police  agent  to  seat  himself  beside  him. 


1 66          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

The  only  chagrin  he  felt  was  that  the  chauf- 
feur had  overheard  all  the  conversation.  And  to 
him  he  said:  "  Remember,  Gallet,  of  this  affair 
you  know  nothing." 

"  I  understand  perfectly,  m'sieur,"  was  the 
wondering  soldier's  reply. 

Then  they  sat  in  silence  in  the  darkness  un- 
til the  hurrying  police  agent  returned,  after  which 
the  car  sped  straight  past  the  chateau  on  the  high 
road  which  led  through  the  deep  valley  on  to  the 
fortress  town  of  Verdun. 

As  they  passed  the  chateau  Paul  Le  Pontois 
caught  a  glimpse  of  its  lighted  windows  and  sat 
wondering  what  Blanche  would  imagine.  He 
pictured  the  pleasant  supper  party  and  the  sur- 
prise that  would  be  expressed  at  his  absence. 

How  amusing!  What  incongruity!  He  was 
under  arrest ! 

The  car  rushed  on  beneath  the  precipitous 
hill  crowned  by  the  great  fortress  of  Haudio- 
mont,  through  the  narrow  gorge — the  road  to 
Paris. 

All  three  men,  seated  abreast,  were  silent 
until,  at  last,  the  elder  of  the  two  police  agents 
bent  and  glanced  at  the  clock  on  the  dashboard, 
visible  by  the  tiny  glow-lamp. 

"  Half  past  twelve,"  he  remarked.  '  The. 
express  leaves  Verdun  at  two  twenty-eight." 


Three  Gentlemen  from  Paris     167 

"For  where?"  asked  Paul. 

"  For  Paris." 

"  Paris !  "  he  cried.  "  Are  you  taking  me  to 
Paris?" 

'  Those  are  our  orders,"  was  the  detective's 
quiet  response. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   ORDERS   OF   HIS  EXCELLENCY 

AGAIN  Paul  sat  back  without  a  word.  Well,  he 
would  hear  the  extraordinary  charge  against 
him,  whatever  it  might  be.  And,  without  speak- 
ing, they  travelled  on  and  on,  until  they  at  last 
entered  the  Porte  St.  Paul  at  Verdun,  passed 
up  the  Avenue  de  la  Gare,  skirting  the  Palais 
de  Justice  into  the  station  yard. 

As  Paul  descended  they  were  met  by  a  third 
stranger  who  strolled  forward — a  man  in  a 
heavy  travelling  coat  and  a  soft  Homburg  hat. 

It  was  the  man  who  had  sat  beliind  him 
earlier  in  the  evening — the  man  with  the  deep 
lines  upon  his  care-worn  brow,  who  had  laughed 
so  heartily — and  who  a  moment  later  introduced 
himself  as  Jules  Pierrepont,  special  commissaire 
of  the  Paris  Surete. 

'  We  have  met  before? "  remarked  Paul 
abruptly. 

'  Yes,  Monsieur  Le  Pontois,"  replied  the 
man  with  a  grim  smile.  "  On  several  occasions 

168 


The  Orders  of  His  Excellency    169 

lately.  It  has  been  my  duty  to  keep  observa- 
tion upon  your  movements — acting  upon  orders 
from  Monsieur  the  Prefect  of  Police." 

And  together  they  entered  the  dark,  deserted 
station  to  await  the  night  express  for  Paris. 

Suddenly  Paul  turned  back,  saying  to  the 
chauffeur  in  a  low,  hard  voice:  "  Gallet,  to-mor- 
row go  and  tell  madame  my  wife  that  I  am 
unexpectedly  called  to  the  capital.  Tell  her — 
tell  her  that  I  will  write  to  her.  But,  at  all 
hazards,  do  not  let  her  know  the  truth  that  I  am 
under  arrest,"  he  added  hoarsely. 

!<  That  is  understood,  monsieur,"  replied  the 
man,  saluting.  "  Neither  madame  nor  anyone 
else  shall  know  why  you  have  left  for  Paris." 

"  I  rely  upon  you,"  were  Paul's  parting 
words,  and,  turning  upon  his  heel,  he  accom- 
panied the  three  men  who  were  in  waiting. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  sat  in  a  second-class 
compartment  of  the  Paris  rapide  with  the  three 
keen-eyed  men  who  had  so  swiftly  effected  his 
arrest. 

It  was  apparent  to  him  now  that  the  reason 
he  had  recognised  Pierrepont  was  because  that 
man  had  maintained  vigilant,  yet  unobtrusive, 
observation  upon  him  during  several  of  the  pre- 
ceding days,  keeping  near  him  in  all  sorts  of 
ingenious  guises  and  making  inquiries  concern- 


i7°          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

ing  him — inquiries  instituted  for  some  un- 
explained cause  by  the  Paris  police. 

Bitterly  he  smiled  to  himself  as  he  gazed 
upon  the  faces  of  his  three  companions,  hard 
and  deep-shadowed  beneath  the  uncertain  light. 
Presently  he  made  some  inquiry  of  Jules  Pierre- 
pont,  who  had  now  assumed  commandership  of 
the  party,  as  to  the  reason  of  his  arrest. 

"  I  regret,  Monsieur  Le  Pontois,"  replied 
the  quiet,  affable  man,  "  his  Excellency  does 
not  give  us  reasons.  We  obey  orders — that  is 
all." 

"But  surely  there  is  still,  even  after  the  war, 
justice  in  France! "  cried  Paul  in  dismay. 
'  There  must  be  some  good  reason.  One  can- 
not be  thus  arrested  as  a  criminal  without  some 
charge  against  him — in  my  case  a  false  one !  " 

All  three  men  had  heard  prisoners  declare 
their  innocence  many  times  before,  therefore 
they  merely  nodded  assent — it  was  their  usual 
habit. 

:'  There  is,  of  course,  some  charge,"  re- 
marked Pierrepont.  "  But  no  doubt  monsieur 
has  a  perfect  answer  to  it." 

'  When  I  know  what  it  is,"  replied  Paul  be- 
tween his  teeth,  "  then  I  shall  meet  it  bravely, 
and  demand  compensation  for  this  outrageous 
arrest! " 


The  Orders  of  His  Excellency    171 

He  held  his  breath,  for,  with  a  sinking  heart, 
he  realised  for  the  first  time  the  very  fact  of  a 
serious  allegation  being  made  against  him  by 
some  enemy.  If  mud  is  thrown  some  of  it  al- 
ways sticks.  What  had  all  his  enthusiasm  in 
life  profited  him?  Nothing.  He  bit  his  lip  when 
he  reflected. 

'  You  have  some  idea  of  what  is  alleged 
against  me,  messieurs,"  the  unhappy  man  ex- 
claimed presently,  as  the  roaring  train  emerged 
from  a  long  tunnel.  "  I  see  it  in  your  faces. 
Indeed,  you  would  not  have  taken  the  precau- 
tion, which  you  did  at  the  moment  of  my  arrest, 
of  searching  me  to  find  firearms.  You  suspected 
that  I  might  make  an  attempt  to  take  my  life." 

"  Merely  our  habit,"  replied  Pierrepont  with 
a  slight  smile. 

'  The  charge  is  a  grave  one — will  you  not 
admit  that? " 

"  Probably  it  is — or  we  should  not  all  three 
have  been  sent  to  bring  you  to  Paris,"  remarked 
one  of  the  trio. 

*  You  have  had  access  to  my  dossier — I  feel 
sure  you  have,  monsieur,"  Paul  said,  addressing 
Pierrepont. 

"  Ah !  you  are  in  error.  Monsieur  le  Ministre 
does  not  afford  me  that  privilege.  I  am  but  the 
servant  of  the  Surete,  and  no  one  regrets  more 


i72          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

than  myself  the  painful  duty  I  have  been  com- 
pelled to  perform  to-night.  I  assure  you,  Mon- 
sieur Le  Pontois,  that  I  entertain  much  regret 
that  I  have  been  compelled  to  drag  you  away 
from  your  home  and  family  thus,  to  Paris." 

"  No  apology  is  needed,  mon  ami,"  Paul  ex- 
claimed quickly,  well  aware  that  the  detective 
was  merely  obeying  instructions.  "  I  under- 
stand your  position  perfectly."  Then,  glancing 
round  at  his  companions,  he  added:  "You  may 
sleep  in  peace,  messieurs.  I  give  you  my  word 
of  honour  that  I  will  not  attempt  to  escape. 
Why,  indeed,  should  I?  I  have  committed  no 
wrong! " 

One  of  the  men  had  pulled  out  a  well-worn 
notebook  and  was  with  difficulty  writing  down 
the  prisoner's  words — to  be  put  in  evidence 
against  him.  Le  Pontois  realised  that ;  therefore 
his  mouth  closed  with  a  snap,  and,  leaning  back 
in  the  centre  of  the  carriage,  he  closed  his  eyes, 
not  to  sleep,  but  to  think. 

Before  leaving  Verdun  he  had  seen  Pierre- 
pont  enter  the  telegraph  bureau — to  dispatch  a 
message  to  the  Surete,  without  a  doubt.  They 
already  knew  in  Paris  that  he  was  under  arrest, 
but  at  his  home  they  were,  happily,  still  in  igno- 
rance. Poor  Blanche  was  asleep,  no  doubt,  by 
that  time,  he  thought,  calm  in  the  belief  that  he 


The  Orders  of  His  Excellency    173 

had  been  delayed  and  would  be  home  in  the  early 
hours. 

The  fact  that  he  was  actually  under  arrest  he 
regarded  with  more  humour  than  seriousness, 
feeling  that  in  the  morning  explanations  would 
be  made  and  the  blunder  rectified. 

No  more  honourable  or  upright  man  was 
there  in  France  than  Paul  Le  Pontois,  and  this 
order  from  the  Surete  had  held  him  utterly 
speechless  and  astounded.  So  he  sat  there  hour 
after  hour  as  the  rapide  roared  westward,  until 
it  halted  at  the  great  echoing  station  of  Chalons, 
where  all  four  entered  the  buffet  and  hastily 
swallowed  their  cafe-au-lait. 

Afterwards  they  resumed  their  seats,  and 
the  train,  with  its  two  long,  dusty  wagons-lit, 
moved  onward  again,  with  Paris  for  its  goal. 

The  prisoner  said  little.  He  sat  calmly  re- 
flecting, wondering  and  wondering  what  possi- 
ble charge  could  be  made  against  him.  He  had 
enemies,  as  eveiy  man  had,  he  knew,  but  he  was 
not  aware  of  anyone  who  could  make  an  allega- 
tion of  a  character  sufficiently  grave  to  warrant 
his  arrest. 

Why  had  it  been  forbidden  that  he  should 
wish  Blanche  farewell?  There  was  some  reason 
for  that!  He  inquired  of  Pierrepont,  who  had 
treated  him  with  such  consideration  and  even 


174          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

respect,  but  the  agent  of  secret  police  only  re- 
plied that  in  making  an  arrest  of  that  character 
they  made  it  a  rule  never  to  allow  a  prisoner 
to  communicate  with  his  family. 

"  There  are  several  reasons  for  it,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  One  is  that  very  often  the  prisoner 
will  make  a  statement  to  his  wife  which  he  will 
afterwards  greatly  regret.  Again,  prisoners 
have  been  known  to  whisper  to  their  wives  secret 
instructions,  to  order  the  destruction  of  papers 
before  we  can  make  a  domiciliary  visit,  or— 

"But  you  surely  will  not  make  a  domiciliary 
visit  to  my  house?"  cried  Paul,  interrupting. 

The  men  exchanged  glances. 

"  At  present  we  cannot  tell,"  Pierrepont  re- 
plied. "  It  depends  upon  what  instructions  we 
receive." 

"  Do  you  usually  make  searches?  "  asked  the 
prisoner,  with  visions  of  his  own  home  being 
desecrated  and  ransacked. 

'  Yes,  we  generally  do,"  the  commissaire  of 
police  admitted.  "  As  I  have  explained,  it  is  for 
that  reason  we  do  not  allow  a  prisoner's  wife  to 
know  that  he  is  under  arrest." 

"But  such  an  action  is  abominable!"  cried 
Le  Pontois  angrily.  '  That  my  house  should 
be  turned  upside  down  and  searched  as  though 
[  were  a  common  thief,  a  forger,  or  a  coiner  is 


The  Orders  of  His  Excellency   175 

beyond  toleration.  I  shall  demand  full  inquiry. 
My  friend  Carlier  shall  put  an  interpellation  in 
the  Chamber!" 

"  Monsieur  le  Ministre  acts  upon  his  own 
discretion,"  the  detective  replied  coldly. 

"  And  by  so  doing  sometimes  ruins  the  pros- 
pects and  the  lives  of  some  of  our  best  men," 
blurted  forth  the  angry  prisoner.  It  was  upon 
the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say  much  more  in  con- 
demnation, but  the  sight  of  the  man  with  the 
notebook  caused  him  to  hesitate. 

Every  word  he  uttered  now  would,  he  knew, 
be  turned  against  him.  He  was  under  arrest — 
for  some  crime  that  he  had  not  committed. 

The  other  passengers  by  that  night  express, 
who  included  a  party  of  English  tourists,  little 
dreamed  as  they  passed  up  and  down  the  corri- 
dor that  the  smart,  good-looking  man  who  wore 
the  button  of  the  Legion  d'Honneur,  and  who 
sat  there  with  the  three  quiet,  respectable-look- 
ing men,  was  being  conveyed  to  the  capital  un- 
der escort — a  man  who,  by  the  law  of  France, 
was  already  condemned,  was  guilty  until  he 
could  prove  his  own  innocence ! 

In  the  cold  grey  of  dawn  they  descended  at 
last  at  the  great  bare  Gare  de  1'Est  in  Paris. 
Paul  felt  tired,  cramped  and  unshaven,  but  of 
necessity  entered  a  taxi  called  by  one  of  his  com- 


176          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

panions,  and,  accompanied  by  Pierrepont  and 
the  elder  of  his  assistants,  was  driven  along 
through  the  cheerless,  deserted  streets  to  the 
Surete. 

As  he  entered  the  side  door  of  the  ponderous 
building  the  police  officer  on  duty  saluted  his 
escort. 

His  progress  across  France  had  been  swift 
and  secret. 

What,  he  wondered,  did  the  future  hold  in 
store  for  him? 

His  lip  curled  into  a  smile  when  they  ushered 
him  into  a  bare  room  on  the  first  floor.  Two 
police  officers  were  placed  outside  the  door,  while 
two  stood  within. 

Then,  turning  to  the  window,  which  looked 
out  upon  the  bare  trees  of  the  Place  below,  he 
laughed  aloud  and  made  some  humorous  remark 
which  caused  the  men  to  smile. 

But,  alas!  he  knew  not  the  truth.  Little  did 
he  dream  of  the  amazing  allegation  that  was  to 
be  made  against  him! — little  did  he  dream  how 
completely  the  enemies  of  his  father-in-law,  the 
general,  had  triumphed! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WALTER  GIVES   WARNING 

THE  morning  dawned  bright  and  sunny — a  per- 
fect autumn  morning — at  the  pretty  Chateau  of 
Lerouville. 

The  message  which  Blanche  had  received 
after  returning  had  not  caused  her  much  con- 
sternation. She  supposed  that  Paul  had  been 
suddenly  called  away  on  business.  So  she  had 
eaten  her  supper  with  her  father  and  Enid  and 
retired  to  rest. 

When,  however,  they  sat  at  breakfast — 
served  in  the  English  style — Sir  Hugh  opened  a 
letter  which  lay  upon  his  plate,  and  at  once  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  returning  to  London. 

"  I  have  to  see  Hughes,  my  solicitor,  over 
Aunt  Mary's  affairs,"  he  explained  suddenly  to 
Blanche.  "  That  executor  ship  is  always  an  in- 
fernal nuisance." 

"  But  surely  you  can  remain  a  day  or  two 
longer,  Dad?"  exclaimed  Madame  Le  Pontois. 
'  The  weather  is  delightful  just  now,  and  I  hear 
it  is  too  dreadful  for  words  in  England." 

177 


178          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  I,  too,  have  to  be  back  to  prepare  for  going 
away  with  Mrs.  Caldwell,"  Enid  remarked. 

"  But  surely  these  solicitors  will  wait? 
There  is  no  great  urgency — there  can't  be !  The 
old  lady  died  ten  years  ago,"  Blanche  exclaimed 
as  she  poured  out  coffee. 

"  My  dear,  I'm  extremely  sorry,"  said  her 
father  quietly,  "  but  I  must  go — it  is  im- 
perative." 

"Not  to-day?" 

"  I  ought  to  go  to-day,"  he  sighed.  '  In- 
deed, I  really  must — by  the  rapide  I  usually 
take.  Perhaps  I  shall  alter  my  route  this  time, 
and  go  from  Cbnflans  to  Metz,  and  home  by 
Liege  and  Brussels.  It  is  about  as  quick,  and 
one  gets  a  wagon-lit  from  Metz.  I  looked  up 
the  train  the  other  day,  and  find  it  leaves  Con- 
flans  at  a  little  after  six." 

"  Surely  you  will  remain  and  say  au  revoir 
to  Paul?  He'll  be  so  disappointed!"  she  cried 
in  dismay. 

"  My  dear,  you  will  make  excuses  for  us.  I 
must  really  go,  and  so  must  Enid.  She  had  a 
letter  from  Mrs.  Caldwell  urging  her  to  get 
back,  as  she  wants  to  start  abroad  for  the  winter. 
The  bad  weather  in  England  is  affecting  her,  it 
seems." 

And  so,  with  much  regret  expressed  by  little 


Walter  Gives  Warning  179 

Ninette  and  her  mother,  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe  and 
his  stepdaughter  went  to  their  rooms  to  see 
about  their  packing. 

Both  were  puzzled.  The  sudden  appearance, 
of  those  strange  men  out  of  the  darkness  had 
frightened  Enid,  but  she  had  said  nothing.  Per- 
haps it  was  upon  some  private  matter  that  Paul 
had  been  summoned.  Therefore  she  had  pre- 
served silence,  believing  with  Blanche  that  at 
any  moment  he  might  return. 

Back  in  his  room,  Sir  Hugh  closed  the  door, 
and,  standing  in  the  sunshine  by  the  window, 
gazed  across  the  wide  valley  towards  the  blue 
mists  beyond,  deep  in  reflection. 

!<  This  curious  absence  of  Paul's  forebodes 
evil,"  he  murmured  to  himself. 

He  had  slept  little  that  night,  being  filled 
with  strange  apprehensions.  Though  he  had 
closely  questioned  Enid,  she  would  not  say  what 
had  actually  happened.  Her  explanation  was 
merely  that  Paul  had  been  called  away  by  a  man 
who  had  met  him  outside. 

The  old  man  sighed,  biting  his  lip.  He 
cursed  himself  for  his  dastardly  work,  even 
though  he  had  been  compelled  by  Weirmarsh 
to  execute  it  on  pain  of  exposure  and  consequent 
ruin. 

Against  his  will,  against  his  better  nature,  he 


180          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

had  been  forced  to  meet  the  mysterious  doctor 
of  Pimlico  in  secret  on  that  quiet,  wooded  by- 
road between  Marcheville  and  Saint- Hilaire, 
four  kilometres  from  the  chateau,  and  there  dis- 
cuss with  him  the  suggested  affair  of  which  they 
had  spoken  in  London. 

The  two  men  had  met  at  sundown. 

*  You  seem  to  fear  exposure !  "  laughed  the 
man  who  provided  Sir  Hugh  with  his  comfort- 
able income.  "  Don't  be  foolish — there  is  no 
danger.  Return  to  England  with  Enid  as  soon 
as  you  possibly  can  without  arousing  suspicion, 
and  I  will  call  and  see  you  at  Hill  Street.  I 
want  to  have  a  very  serious  chat  with  you." 

Elcombe's  grey,  weather-worn  face  grew 
hard  and  determined. 

'Why  are  you  here,  Weirmarsh?"  he  de- 
manded. "  I  have  helped  you  and  your  infernal 
friends  in  the  past,  but  please  do  not  count  upon 
my  assistance  in  the  future.  Remember  that 
from  to-day  our  friendship  is  entirely  at  an  end." 

"  As  you  wish,  of  course,  my  dear  Sir 
Hugh,"  replied  the  other,  with  a  nonchalant  air. 
"  But  if  I  were  you  I  would  not  be  in  too  great 
a  hurry  to  make  such  a  declaration.  You  may 
require  a  friend  in  the  near  future — a  friend 
like  myself." 


Walter  Gives  Warning  181 

"Never,  I  hope — never!"  snapped  the  old 
general. 

'  Very  well,"  replied  the  doctor,  who,  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  wished  his  friend  a  cold 
adieu  and,  turning,  strode  away. 

As  Sir  Hugh  stood  alone  by  the  window  that 
morning  he  recalled  every  incident  of  that  hate- 
ful interview,  every  word  that  had  fallen  from 
the  lips  of  the  man  who  seemed  to  be  as  ingeni- 
ous and  resourceful  as  Satan  himself. 

His  anxiety  regarding  Paul's  sudden  ab- 
sence had  caused  him  to  invent  an  excuse  for  his 
own  hurried  departure.  He  was  not  prepared 
to  remain  there  and  witness  his  dear  daughter's 
grief  and  humiliation,  so  he  deemed  it  wiser  to 
get  away  in  safety  to  England,  for  he  no  longer 
trusted  Weirmarsh.  Suppose  the  doctor  revealed 
the  actual  truth  by  means  of  some  anonymous 
communication  ? 

As  he  stood  staring  blankly  across  the  valley 
he  heard  the  hum  of  an  approaching  motor-car, 
and  saw  that  it  was  General  Melon's,  being 
driven  by  Gallet,  the  soldier  chauffeur. 

There  was  no  passenger,  but  the  car  entered 
the  iron  gates  and  pulled  up  before  the  door. 

A  few  minutes  later  Blanche  ran  up  the 
stairs  and,  bursting  into  her  father's  room,  cried : 
"  Paul  has  been  called  suddenly  to  Paris,  Dad ! 


i8a          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

He  told  Gallet  to  come  this  morning  and  tell  me. 
How  strange  that  he  did  not  come  in  to  get  even 
a  valise ! " 

"  Yes,  dear,"  said  her  father.  "  Gallet  is 
downstairs,  isn't  he?  I'll  speak  to  him.  The 
mystery  of  Paul's  absence  increases ! " 

"  It  does.  I — I  can't  get  rid  of  a  curious 
feeling  of  apprehension  that  something  has  hap- 
pened. What  was  there  to  prevent  him  from 
coming  in  to  wish  me  good-bye  when  he  was 
actually  at  the  gate  ?  " 

Sir  Hugh  went  below  and  questioned  the 
chauffeur. 

The  story  told  by  the  man  Gallet  was  that 
Le  Pontois  had  been  met  by  two  gentlemen  and 
given  a  message  that  he  was  required  urgently 
in  Paris,  and  they  had  driven  at  once  over  to 
Verdun,  where  they  had  just  caught  the  train. 

"  Did  Monsieur  Le  Pontois  leave  any  other 
message  for  madame  ? "  asked  Sir  Hugh  in 
French. 

"  No,  m'sieur." 

The  general  endeavoured  by  dint  of  per- 
suasion to  learn  something  more,  but  the  man 
was  true  to  his  promise,  and  would  make  no 
further  statement.  Indeed,  earlier  that  morn- 
ing he  had  been  closely  questioned  by  the  com' 
mandant,  but  had  been  equally  reticent.  Le 


Walter  Gives  Warning  183 

Pontois  was  a  favourite  in  the  neighbourhood, 
and  no  man  would  dare  to  lift  his  voice  against 
him. 

Sir  Hugh  returned  to  his  room  and  com- 
menced packing  his  suit-cases,  more  than  ever 
convinced  that  suspicion  had  been  aroused. 
Jean  came  to  offer  to  assist,  but  he  declared  that 
he  liked  to  pack  himself,  and  this  occupied  him 
the  greater  part  of  the  morning. 

Enid  was  also  busy  with  her  dresses,  assisted 
by  Blanche's  Proven9al  maid,  Louise.  About 
eleven  o'clock,  however,  Jean  tapped  at  her  door 
and  said :  "  A  peasant  f  com  Allamont,  across 
the  valley,  has  brought  a  letter,  mademoiselle. 
He  says  an  English  gentleman  gave  it  to  him 
to  deliver  to  you  personally.  He  is  downstairs." 

In  surprise  the  girl  hurriedly  descended  to 
the  servants'  entrance,  where  she  found  a  sturdy, 
old,  grey-bearded  peasant,  bearing  a  long,  stout 
stick.  He  raised  his  frayed  cap  politely  and 
asked  whether  she  were  Mademoiselle  Orlebar. 

Then,  when  she  had  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  drew  from  the  breast  of  his  blouse  a 
crumpled  letter,  saying:  "  The  Englishman  who 
has  been  staying  at  the  Lion  d'Or  at  Allamont 
gave  this  to  me  at  dawn  to-day.  I  was  to  give 
it  only  into  mademoiselle's  hands.  There  is  no 
reply." 


'184          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Enid  tore  open  the  letter  eagerly  and  found 
the  following  words,  written  hurriedly  in  pencil 
in  Walter  Fetherston's  well-known  scrawling 
hand — for  a  novelist's  handwriting  is  never  of 
the  best: 

"  Make  excuse  and  induce  your  father  to 
leave  Conflans-Jarny  at  once  for  Metz,  travel- 
ling by  Belgium  for  London.  Accompany  him. 
A  serious  contretemps  has  occurred  which  will, 
affect  you  both  if  you  do  not  leave  immediately 
on  receipt  of  this.  Heed  this,  I  beg  of  you. 
And  remember,  I  am  still  your  friend. 

"  WALTER." 

For  a  moment  she  stood  puzzled.  "  Did  the 
Englishman  say  there  was  no  reply?  "  she  asked. 

'  Yes,  mademoiselle.  He  left  the  Lion  d'Or 
just  before  eight,  and  drove  into  Conflans  with 
his  luggage.  The  innkeeper  told  me  that  he  is 
returning  suddenly  to  England.  He  received 
several  telegrams  in  the  night,  it  appears." 

'  You  know  him,  then?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  mademoiselle.  He  came  there  to 
fish  in  the  Longeau,  and  I  have  been  with  him 
on  several  occasions." 

Enid  took  a  piece  of  "  cent  sous  "  from  her 
purse  and  gave  it  to  the  old  man,  then  she  re- 
turned to  her  room  and,  sending  Louise  below 


Walter  Gives  Warning  i8<j 

for  something,  burned  Walter's  letter  in  the 
grate. 

Afterwards  she  went  to  her  stepfather  and 
suggested  that  perhaps  they  might  leave  Con- 
flans  earlier  than  he  had  resolved. 

"  I  hear  there  is  a  train  at  three-five.  If  we 
went  by  that,"  she  said,  "  we  could  cross  from 
Ostend  instead  of  by  Antwerp,  and  thus  be  in 
London  a  day  earlier." 

"  Are  you  so  anxious  to  get  away  from  here, 
Enid? "  he  asked,  looking  straight  into  her  face. 

'  Well,  yes.  Mother,  in  her  letter  yesterday, 
urged  me  to  come  home,  "as  she  does  not  wish 
me  to  travel  out  alone  to  join  Mrs.  Caldwell. 
She's  afraid  she  will  leave  London  without  me  if 
I  don't  get  home  at  once.  Besides,  I've  got  a 
lot  of  shopping  to  do  before  I  can  start.  Do  let 
us  get  away  by  the  earlier  train.  It  will  be  so 
much  better,"  she  urged. 

As  Sir  Hugh  never  denied  Enid  anything, 
he  acquiesced.  Packing  was  speedily  concluded, 
and,  much  to  the  regret  of  Blanche,  the  pair  left 
in  a  fly  for  which  they  had  telephoned  to  Con- 
flans-Jarny. 

The  train  by  which  they  travelled  ran 
through  the  beautiful  valley  of  Manvaux,  past 
the  great  forts  of  Plappeville  and  St.  Quentin, 


1 86          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

and  across  the  Moselle  to  Metz,  and  so  into  Ger- 
man territory. 

Whatever  might  happen,  Sir  Hugh  re- 
flected, at  least  he  was  now  safe  from  arrest. 
While  Enid,  on  her  part,  sat  back  in  the  corner 
of  the  first-class  compartment  gazing  out  of  the 
window,  still  mystified  by  that  strange  warning 
from  the  man  who  only  a  few  days  previously 
had  so  curiously  turned  and  abandoned  her. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   ACCUSERS 

AT  the  same  hour  when  Enid  and  Sir  Hugh 
were  passing  Amanvilliers,  once  the  scene  of 
terrible  atrocities  by  the  Huns,  Paul  Le  Pon- 
tois,  between  two  agents  of  police,  was  ushered 
into  the  private  cabinet  where,  at  the  great  writ- 
ing-table near  the  window,  sat  a  short  man  with 
bristling  hair  and  snow-wtyte  moustache,  Mon- 
sieur Henri  Bezard,  chief  of  the  Surete 
Generale. 

A  keen-faced,  black-eyed  man  of  dapper 
appearance,  wearing  the  coveted  button  of  the 
Legion  d'Honneur  in  his  black  frock-coat,  he 
looked  up  sharply  at  the  man  brought  into  his 
presence,  wished  him  a  curt  "  bon  jour,"  and 
motioned  him  to  a  seat  at  the  opposite  side  of  the 
big  table,  in  such  a  position  that  the  grey  light 
from  the  long  window  fell  directly  upon  his 
countenance. 

With  him,  standing  about  the  big,  handsome 
room  with  its  green-baize  doors  and  huge  oil 
paintings  on  the  walls,  were  four  elderly  men, 
strangers  to  Paul. 

187 


1 88          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

The  severe  atmosphere  of  that  sombre  apart- 
ment, wherein  sat  the  chief  of  the  police  of  the 
Republic,  was  depressing.  Those  present 
moved  noiselessly  over  the  thick  Turkey  carpet, 
while  the  double  windows  excluded  every  sound 
from  the  busy  boulevard  below. 

'  Your  name,"  exclaimed  the  great  Bezard 
sharply,  at  last  raising  his  eyes  from  a  file  of 
papers  before  him — "  your  name  is  Paul  Robert 
Le  Pontois,  son  of  Paul  Le  Pontois,  rentier  of 
Severac,  Department  of  Aveyron.  During  the 
war  you  were  captain  in  the  114th  Regiment  of 
Artillery,  and  you  now  reside  with  your  wife 
and  daughter  at  the  Chateau  of  Lerouville.  Are 
those  details  correct?" 

"  Perfectly,  m'sieur,"  replied  the  man  seated 
with  the  two  police  agents  standing  behind  him. 
He  wore  his  black  evening  trousers  and  a  brown 
tweed  jacket  which  one  of  the  detectives  had 
lent  him. 

"  You  have  been  placed  under  arrest  by  or- 
der of  the  Ministry,"  replied  Bezard,  speaking 
in  his  quick,  impetuous  way. 

"  I  am  aware  of  that,  m'sieur,"  was  Paul's 
reply,  "  but  I  am  in  ignorance  of  the  charge 
against  me." 

"  Well,"  exclaimed  Bezard  very  gravely, 
again  referring  to  the  formidable  dossier  before 


The  Accusers  189 

him,  "  the  charge  brought  against  you  is  most 
serious.  It  is  astounding  and  disgraceful.  Lis- 
ten, and  I  will  read  it.  Afterwards  we  will  hear 
what  explanation  you  have  to  offer.  We  are 
assembled  for  that  purpose." 

The  four  other  men  had  taken  chairs  near 
by,  while  Pierrepont  was  standing  at  some  dis- 
tance away,  with  his  back  to  the  wood  fire. 

For  a  second  Bezard  paused,  then,  rubbing 
his  gold  pince-nez  and  adjusting  them,  he  read 
in  a  cold,  hard  voice  the  following: 

'  The  charge  alleged  against  you,  Paul  Rob- 
ert Le  Pontois,  is  that  upon  four  separate  occa- 
sions you  have  placed  in  circulation  forged  Bank 
of  England  and  Treasury  notes  of  England  to 
the  extent  of  nearly  a  million  francs." 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  cried  Paul,  jumping  to  his  feet, 
his  face  aflame.  "  Before  God,  I  swear  it  is 
a  lie!" 

"  Calm  yourself  and  listen,"  commanded  the 
great  chief  of  the  Surete  Generate  sharply. 
"  Be  seated." 

The  prisoner  sank  back  into  his  chair  again. 
His  head  was  reeling.  Who  could  possibly  have 
made  such  unfounded  charges  against  him?  He 
could  scarcely  believe  his  ears. 

Then  the  hard-faced,  white-headed  old  di- 
rector, who  held  supreme  command  of  the  police 


i9°          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

of  the  Republic,  glanced  at  him  shrewdly,  and, 
continuing,  said:  "It  is  alleged  that  you,  Paul 
Le  Pontois,  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  January, 
and  again  on  the  sixteenth  of  May,  met  in  Com- 
mercy  a  certain  Englishman,  and  handed  to  him 
a  bundle  of  English  notes  since  proved  to  be 
forgeries." 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  with  any  English 
forger,"  protested  Paul. 

"  Do  not  interrupt,  m'sieur! "  snapped  the 
director.  '  You  will,  later  on,  be  afforded  full 
opportunity  to  make  any  statement  or  explana- 
tion you  may  wish.  First  listen  to  these  grave 
charges  against  you."  After  a  further  pause, 
he  added:  "  The  third  occasion,  it  is  alleged,  was 
on  April  the  eighth  last,  when  it  seems  you  drove 
at  early  morning  over  to  Thillot-sous-les-C6tes 
and  there  met  a  stranger  who  was  afterwards 
identified  as  an  American  who  is  wanted  for 
banknote  forgeries." 

"And  the  fourth?"  asked  Paul  hoarsely. 
This  string  of  allegations  utterly  staggered  him. 

'  The  fourth  occasion  was  quite  recently," 
Bezard  said,  still  speaking  in  that  same  cold 
tone.  "  On  that  occasion  you  made  certain  cal- 
culations to  ascertain  how  much  were  your 
profits  by  dealing  with  these  forgers  whom  Scot- 
land Yard  are  so  anxious  to  arrest.  You  wrote 


The  Accusers  191 

all  the  sums  down,  knowing  your  expenditure 
and  profits.  The  latter  were  very  considerable." 

"  And  by  whom  is  it  alleged  that  I  am  a 
dealer  in  base  money,  pray?  " 

"It  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  disclose  the 
name  of  our  informant,"  was  the  stiff  rejoinder. 

"  But  surely  I  am  not  to  be  thus  denounced 
by  an  anonymous  enemy? "  he  cried.  "  This  is 
not  the  justice  which  every  Frenchman  claims 
as  his  birthright!  " 

'  You  have  demanded  to  know  the  charges 
laid  against  you,  and  I  have  detailed  them," 
replied  the  chief  of  the  Surete,  regarding  the 
prisoner  closely  through  his  gold  pince-nez. 

'  They  are  false — every  word  of  them," 
promptly  returned  Le  Pontois.  "  I  have  no  ac- 
quaintance with  any  banknote  forger.  If  I  had, 
he  would  quickly  find  himself  under  arrest." 

The  four  men  seated  in  his  vicinity  smiled 
grimly.  They  had  expected  the  prisoner  to  de- 
clare his  innocence. 

"  I  may  tell  you  that  the  information  here  " 
—and  Bezard  tapped  the  dossier  before  him — 
"  is  from  a  source  in  which  we  have  the  most 
complete  and  implicit  confidence.  For  the  past 
few  months  there  have  been  suspicions  that 
forged  English  notes  have  been  put  into  circula- 
tion in  France.  Therefore  I  ordered  a  vigilant 


192          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

watch  to  be  maintained.  Monsieur  Pierrepont, 
here,  has  been  in  command  of  a  squadron  of  con- 
fidential agents." 

"  And  they  have  watched  me,  and,  I  sup- 
pose, have  manufactured  evidence  against  me  I 
It  is  only  what  may  be  expected  of  men  paid 
to  spy  upon  us.  If  I  am  a  forger  or  a  friend  of 
forgers,  as  you  allege  me  to  be,  then  I  am  un- 
worthy to  have  served  in  the  uniform  of  France. 
But  I  tell  you  that  the  allegations  you  have  just 
read  are  lies — lies,  every  word  of  them."  And 
Le  Pontois*  pale  cheeks  flushed  crimson  with 
anger. 

"  Le  Pontois,"  remarked  a  tall,  thin,  elderly 
commissaire  who  was  present,  "  it  is  for  you  to 
prove  your  innocence.  The  information  laid  be- 
fore us  is  derived  from  those  who  have  daily 
watched  your  movements  and  reported  them. 
If  you  can  prove  to  us  that  it  is  false,  then  your 
innocence  may  be  established." 

"  But  I  am  innocent!  "  he  protested,  "  there- 
fore I  have  no  fear  what  charges  may  be  laid 
against  me.  They  cannot  be  substantiated. 
The  whole  string  of  allegations  is  utterly 
ridiculous! " 

"  Eh  bien!  Then  let  us  commence  with  the 
first,"  exclaimed  Bezard,  again  referring  to  the1 
file  of  secret  reports  before  him.  "  On  Wednes- 


The  Accusers  193 

day,  the  fourteenth  day  of  January,  you  went  to 
Commercy,  where,  at  the  Cafe  de  la  Cloche,  you 
met  a  certain  Belgian  who  passed  under  the 
name  of  Laloux." 

"  I  recollect!  "  cried  Le  Pontois  quickly.  "  I 
sold  him  a  horse.  He  was  a  dealer." 

"  A  dealer  in  forged  notes,"  remarked  one 
of  the  officials,  with  a  faint  smile. 

'  Was  he  a  forger,  then?  "  asked  Le  Pontois 
in  entire  surprise. 

'  Yes.  He  has  entered  France  several  times 
in  the  guise  of  a  horsedealer,"  Pierrepont  in- 
terrupted. 

"  But  I  only  bought  a  horse  of  him,"  de- 
clared the  prisoner  vehemently. 

"  And  you  paid  for  it  in  English  notes, 
apologising  that  you  had  no  other  money.  He 
took  them,  for  he  passed  them  in  Belgium  into 
an  English  bank  in  Brussels.  They  were 
forged!" 

"  Again,  on  the  sixteenth  of  May,  you  met 
the  man  Laloux  at  the  same  place,"  said  Bezard. 

"  He  had  a  mare  to  sell — I  tried  to  buy  it 
for  my  wife  to  drive,  but  he  wanted  too  much." 

'  You  remained  the  night  at  the  Hotel  de 
Paris,  and  saw  him  again  at  nine  o'clock  next 
morning." 

"  True.     I  hoped  to  strike  a  bargain  with 


194          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

him  in  the  morning,  but  we  could  not  come  to 
terms." 

"  Regarding  the  forged  English  notes  you 
were  prepared  to  sell,  eh? "  snapped  Bezard, 
with  a  look  of  disbelief. 

"  I  had  nothing  to  sell! "  protested  Le  Pon- 
tois,  drawing  himself  up.  '  Those  who  have 
spied  upon  me  have  told  untruths." 

"  But  the  individual,  Laloux,  was  watched. 
One  of  our  agents  followed  him  to  Brussels, 
where  he  went  next  day  to  the  English  bank  in 
the  Montagne  de  la  Cour." 

"  Not  with  forged  notes  from  me.  My  deal- 
ings with  him  were  in  every  way  honest  business 
transactions." 

'  You  mean  that  you  received  money  from 
him,  eh?" 

"  I  do  not  deny  thatv^  I  sold  him  a  horse  on 
the  first  occasion.  He  paid  me  seven  hundred 
•francs  for  it,  and  I  afterwards  purchased  one 
from  him." 

"  So  you  do  not  deny  that  you  received 
money  from  that  man?  " 

'  Why  should  I?  I  sold  him  a  horse,  and  he 
paid  me  for  it." 

'  Very  well,"  said  Bezard,  with  some  hesita- 
tion. "  Let  us  pass  to  the  eighth  of  April.  At 
six  o'clock  that  morning  you  drove  to  Thillot- 


The  Accusers  195 

sous-les-C6tes,  where  you  met  a  stranger  at  the 
entrance  to  the  village,  and  walked  with  him, 
and  held  a  long  and  earnest  conversation." 

Paul  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  incident 
recalled  was  one  that  he  would  fain  have  for- 
gotten, one  the  truth  of  which  he  intended  at 
all  hazards  to  conceal. 

"  I  admit  that  I  went  to  Thillot  in  secret," 
he  answered  in  a  changed  voice. 

"  Ah!  Then  you  do  not  deny  that  you  were 
attracted  by  the  promises  of  substantial  pay- 
ment for  certain  forged  English  notes  which  you 
could  furnish,  eh  ? "  grunted  Bezard  in  satis- 
faction. 

"  I  admit  going  to  Thillot,  but  I  deny  your 
allegation,"  cried  Paul  in  quick  protest. 

'  Then  perhaps  you  will  tell  us  the  reason 
you  took  that  early  drive?  "  asked  a  commissaire, 
with  a  short,  hard  laugh  of  disbelief. 

The  prisoner  hesitated.  It  was  a  purely 
personal  matter,  one  which  concerned  himself 
alone. 

"  I  regret,  messieurs,"  was  his  slow  reply, 
"  I  regret  that  I  am  unable — indeed,  I  am  not 
permitted  to  answer  that  question." 

"  Pray  why?  "  inquired  Bezard. 

"  Well — because  it  concerns  a  woman's  hon- 


196          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

our,"  was  the  low,  hoarse  reply,  "  the  honour 
of  the  wife  of  a  certain  officer." 

At  those  words  of  his  the  men  interrogating 
him  laughed  in  derision,  declaring  it  to  be  a  very 
elegant  excuse. 

"  It  is  no  excuse ! "  he  cried  fiercely,  again 
rising  from  his  chair.  '  When  I  have  obtained 
permission  to  speak,  messieurs,  I  will  tell  you 
the  truth.  Until  then  I  shall  remain  silent." 

"Eh,  bien!"  snapped  Bezard.  "And  so 
we  will  pass  to  the  next  and  final  charge — that 
you  prepared  a  statement  in  order  to  satisfy 
yourself  regarding  the  profits  of  your  dealings 
in  these  spurious  notes." 

"I  have  no  knowledge  of  such  a  thing!" 
Paul  replied  instantly. 

"  And  yet  for  several  'weeks  past  a  mysteri- 
ous friend  of  yours  has  been  seen  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  your  chateau.  He  has  been  staying 
in  Commercy  and  in  Longuyon.  I  gave  orders 
for  his  arrest,  but,  with  his  usual  cleverness,  he 
escaped  from  Commercy." 

"  I  prepared  no  statement." 

"H'm!"  grunted  Bezard,  looking  straight 
into  his  flushed  face.  *  You  are  quite  certain 
of  that?" 

"  I  swear  I  did  not." 
'  Then  perhaps  you  will  deny  that  this  is  in 


The  Accusers  197 

your  hand?  "  the  director  asked  slowly,  with  a 
grin,  as  he  fixed  his  eyes  upon  Paul  and  handed 
him  a  sheet  of  his  own  note-paper  bearing  the 
address  of  the  chateau  embossed  in  green. 

Paul  took  it  in  his  trembling  fingers,  and  as 
he  did  so  his  countenance  fell. 

It  was  the  rough  account  of  his  investments 
and  profits  he  remembered  making  for  his 
father-in-law.  He  had  cast  it  unheeded  into  the 
waste-paper  basket,  whence  it  had,  no  doubt, 
been  recovered  by  those  who  had  spied  upon  him 
and  placed  with  the  reports  as  evidence  against 
him. 

'  You  admit  making  that  calculation? " 
asked  Bezard  severely.  *  Those  figures  are,  I  be- 
lieve, in  your  handwriting?  " 

*  Yes ;  but  I  have  had  nothing  to  do  with 
any  forgers  of  banknotes,"  declared  the  un- 
happy man,  reseating  himself. 

"  Ah !  Then  you  admit  making  the  calcula- 
tion? That  in  itself  is  sufficient  for  the  present. 
However,  cannot  you  give  us  some  explanation 
of  that  secret  visit  of  yours  to  Thillot?  Re- 
member, you  have  to  prove  your  innocence !  " 

"  I — I  cannot — not,  at  least,  at  present," 
faltered  the  prisoner. 

"You  refuse?" 

"  Yes,   m'sieur,    I   flatly   refuse,"   was   the 


198          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

hoarse  reply.  "  As  I  have  told  you,  that  visit 
concerned  the  honour  of  a  woman." 

The  men  again  exchanged  glances  of  disbe- 
lief, while  the  victim  of  those  dastardly  allega- 
tions sat  breathless,  amazed  at  the  astounding 
manner  in  which  his  most  innocent  actions  had 
been  misconstrued  into  incriminating  evidence. 

He  was  under  arrest  as  one  who  had  placed 
forged  English  banknotes  in  circulation  in 
France ! 


CHAPTER  XIX 

IN    WHICH   A  TRUTH    IS   HIDDEN 

WHEN  Walter  Fetherston  entered  the  tasteful 
drawing-room  at  Hill  Street  four  days  later  he 
found  Enid  alone,  seated  by  the  fire. 

The  dull  London  light  of  the  autumn  after- 
noon was  scarcely  sufficient  for  him  to  distin- 
guish every  object  in  the  apartment,  but  as  he 
advanced  she  rose  and  stood  silhouetted  against 
the  firelight,  a  slight,  graceful  figure,  with  hand 
outstretched. 

"  Both  mother  and  Sir  Hugh  are  out — gone 
to  a  matinee  at  the  Garrick,"  she  exclaimed. 
"I'm  so  glad  you've  come  in,"  and  she  placed 
a  chair  for  him. 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  are  leaving  for 
Egypt  to-morrow,"  he  said,  "  and  I  wished  to 
have  a  chat  with  you." 

'  We  go  to  Italy  first,  and  to  Egypt  after 
Christmas,"  she  replied.  "  Mother  has  promised 
to  join  us  in  Luxor  at  the  end  of  January." 

"If  I  were  you,  -Enid,"  he  replied  gravely, 

199 


200          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

bending  towards  her,  "  I  would  make  some  ex- 
cuse and  remain  in  England." 

"  Why?  "  she  asked,  her  eyes  opening  widely. 
"I  don't  understand!'' 

"  I  regret  that  I  am  unable  to  speak  more 
plainly,"  he  said.  "  I  warned  you  to  leave 
France,  and  I  was  glad  that  you  and  Sir  Hugh 
heeded  my  warning.  Otherwise — well,  perhaps 
an  unpleasant  incident  would  have  resulted." 

*  You  always  speak  in  enigmas  nowadays," 
said  the  girl,  again  standing  near  the  fireplace, 
dainty  in  her  dark  skirt  and  cream  silk  jumper. 

'  Why  did  you  send  me  that  extraordinary 
note?" 

"  In  your  own  interests,"  was  his  vague  re- 
ply. "  I  became  aware  that  your  further  pres- 
ence in  the  house  of  Monsieur  Le  Pontois  was 
— well — undesirable — that's  all." 

"  I  really  think  you  entertain  some  antago- 
nism against  Paul,"  she  declared,  "  yet  he's  such 
a  good  fellow." 

The  novelist's  eyes  sparkled  through  his 
pince-nez  as  he  replied:  "  He's  very  good-look- 
ing, I  admit,  and,  no  doubt,  a  perfect  cavalier." 

*  You  suspect  me  of  flirtations  with  him,  of 
course,"  she  pouted.     :<  Well,  you're  not  the  first 
man  who  has  chaffed  me  about  that." 

"  No,  no,"  he  laughed.     "  I'm  in  no  way 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Hidden     201 

jealous,  I  assure  you.  I  merely  told  you  that 
your  departure  from  the  chateau  would  be  for 
the  best." 

He  did  not  tell  her  that  within  an  hour  of 
their  leaving  French  territory  an  official  tele- 
gram had  been  received  from  Paris  by  the  local 
commissaire  of  police  with  orders  to  detain  them 
both,  nor  that  just  before  dark  an  insignificant- 
looking  man  in  black  had  called  at  the  chateau 
and  been  informed  by  Jean  that  the  English 
general  and  his  stepdaughter  had  already  de- 
parted. 

The  whole  of  that  night  the  wires  between 
the  sous-prefecture  at  Briey  and  Paris  had  been 
at  work,  and  many  curious  official  messaged  had 
been  exchanged.  Truly,  the  pair  had  had  a 
providential  escape. 

Sir  Hugh  was,  of  course,  in  entire  ignorance 
of  the  dastardly  action  taken  by  the  Pimlice 
doctor. 

Without  duly  counting  the  cost,  he  had  de- 
clared at  his  last  interview  with  Weirmarsh  that 
their  criminal  partnership  was  now  at  an  end. 
And  the  doctor  had  taken  him  at  his  word. 

Had  not  the  doctor  in  London  told  his  as- 
sistant, Heureux,  that  Sir  Hugh's  sphere  of 
usefulness  was  at  an  end,  and  that,  in  all  prob- 
ability, a  contretemps  would  occur — one  which 


202          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

would  in  future  save  to  "  the  syndicate  "  the  sum 
of  five  thousand  pounds  per  annum? 

Truth  to  tell,  Bezard,  director  of  the  Surete, 
had  telegraphed  orders  for  the  arrest  of  Sir  Hugh 
and  his  daughter.  But,  thanks  to  the  shrewd- 
ness of  Fetherston,  who  had  lingered  in  the 
vicinity  to  afford  them  protection  if  necessary, 
they  had  succeeded  in  escaping  only  a  single 
hour  before  the  message  reached  its  destination. 

Neither  of  them  knew  of  this,  and  the  novel- 
ist intended  that  they  should  remain  in  igno- 
rance— just  as  they  were  still  in  ignorance  of 
the  reason  of  Paul's  visit  to  Paris  and  of  his  de- 
tention there. 

If  they  were  aware  of  the  reason  of  his  warn- 
ing, then  they  would  most  certainly  question  him 
as  to  the  manner  in  which  he  was  able  to  gain 
knowledge  of  the  betrayal  by  Weirmarsh.  He 
had  no  desire  to  be  questioned  upon  such  mat- 
ters. The  motives  of  his  action — always  swift, 
full  of  shrewd  foresight,  and  often  in  disregard 
of  his  own  personal  safety — were  known  alone 
to  himself  and  to  Scotland  Yard. 

If  the  truth  were  told,  he  had  not  been  alone 
in  Eastern  France.  At  the  little  old-world 
Croix-Blanche  at  Briey  a  stout,  middle-aged, 
ruddy-faced  English  tourist  had  had  his  head- 
quarters; while,  again,  at  the  unpretending 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Hidden    203 

Cloche  d'Or  in  the  Place  St.  Paul  at  Verdun 
another  Englishman,  a  young,  active,  clean- 
shaven man,  had  been  moving  about  the  country 
in  constant  communication  with  "  Mr.  Malt- 
wood."  Wherever  the  doctor  from  Pimlico  and 
his  assistant,  Heureux,  had  gone,  there  also  went 
one  or  other  of  those  two  sharp-eyed  but  unob- 
trusive Englishmen.  Every  action  of  the  doctor 
had  been  noted,  and  information  of  it  conveyed 
to  the  quiet-mannered  man  in  pince-nez. 

"  Really,  Walter,  you  are  quite  as  mysteri- 
ous as  your  books,"  Enid  was  declaring,  with  a 
laugh.  "  I  do  wish  you  would  satisfy  my  curi- 
osity and  tell  me  why  you  urged  me  to  leave 
France  so  suddenly." 

"  I  had  reasons — strong  reasons  which  you 
may,  perhaps,  some  day  know,"  was  his  re- 
sponse. "  I  am  only  glad  that  you  thought  fit 
to  take  the  advice  I  offered.  This  afternoon  I 
have  called  to  give  you  further  advice — namely, 
to  remain  in  England,  at  least  for  the  present." 

"  But  I  can't.  My  friend  Jane  Caldwell  has 
been  waiting  a  whole  fortnight  for  me,  suffering 
from  asthma  in  these  abominable  fogs." 

'  You  can  make  some  excuse.  I  assure  you 
that  to  remain  in  London  will  be  for  the  best," 
he  said,  while  she  switched  on  the  shaded  electrio 
lights,  which  shed  a  soft  glow  over  the  handsome 


204          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

room — that  apartment,  the  costly  furniture  of 
which  had  been  purchased  out  of  the  money  se- 
cretly supplied  by  Weirmarsh. 

"  But  I  can't  see  why  I  should  remain,"  she 
protested,  facing  him  again.  He  noted  how 
strikingly  handsome  she  was,  her  dimpled  cheeks 
delicately  moulded  and  her  pretty  chin  slightly 
protruding,  which  gave  a  delightful  piquancy  to 
her  features. 

"  I  wish  I  could  explain  further.  I  can't  at 
present ! " 

'  You  are,  as  I  have  already  said,  so  amaz- 
ingly mysterious — so  full  of  secrets  always!" 

The  man  sighed,  his  brows  knit  slightly. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  am  full  of  secrets- 
strange,  astounding  secrets  they  are — secrets 
which  some  time,  if  divulged,  would  mean  terri- 
ble complications,  ruin  to  those  who  are  believed 
to  be  honest  and  upright." 

The  girl  stood  for  a  few  seconds  in  silence. 

She  had  heard  strange  rumours  regarding 
the  man  seated  there  before  her.  Some  had 
hinted  that  he,  on  more  than  one  occasion,  act- 
ing in  an  unofficial  capacity,  had  arranged  im- 
portant treaties  between  Great  Britain  and  a 
foreign  Power,  leaving  to  ambassadors  the  ar- 
rangements of  detail  and  the  final  ratification. 
There  were  whispers  abroad  that  he  was  a 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Hidden    205 

trusted  and  tried  agent  of  the  British  Govern- 
ment, but  in  exactly  what  capacity  was  unknown. 
His  name  frequently  appeared  among  the  in- 
vited guests  of  Cabinet  Ministers,  and  he  re- 
ceived cards  for  many  official  functions,  but  the 
actual  manner  in  which  he  rendered  assistance 
to  the  Government  was  always  kept  a  most  pro- 
found secret. 

More  than  once  Sir  Hugh  had  mentioned 
the  matter  over  the  dining-table,  expressing 
wonder  as  to  Fetherston's  real  position. 

'  You  know  him  well,  Enid,"  he  had  ex- 
claimed once,  laughing  over  to  her.  '  What  is 
your  opinion?  " 

"  I  really  haven't  any,"  she  declared.  "  His 
movements  are  certainly  rapid,  and  often  most 
mysterious." 

"  He's  a  most  excellent  fellow,"  declared  the 
old  general.  "  Cartwright  told  me  so  the  other 
day  in  the  club.  Cartwright  was  ambassador 
in  Petrograd  before  the  war." 

Enid  remembered  this  as  she  stood  there,  her 
hands  behind  her  back. 

"  Before  I  left  I  heard  that  Paul  had  been 
called  unexpectedly  to  Paris,"  he  said  a  few  mo- 
ments later.  "  Has  he  returned?  " 

"  Not  yet,  I  believe.  I  had  a  letter  from 
Blanche  this  morning.  When  it  was  written, 


206          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

two  days  ago,  he  was  still  absent."  Then  she 
added:  "  There  is  some  mystery  regarding  his 
visit  to  the  capital.  Blanche  left  for  Paris  yes- 
terday, I  believe,  for  she  had  telegraphed  to  him, 
but  received  no  reply." 

"  She  has  gone  to  Paris !  "  he  echoed.  '  Why 
did  she  go?  It  was  silly!  " 

'  Well — because  she  is  puzzled,  I  think.  It 
was  very  strange  that  Paul,  even  though  at  the 
very  gate,  did  not  leave  those  two  men  and  wish 
her  adieu." 

'  Two  men — what  two  men?  "  he  asked  in 
affected  ignorance. 

'  The  two  men  who  stopped  the  car  and  de~ 
manded  to  speak  with  him,"  she  said;  and,  con- 
tinuing, described  to  him  that  remarkable  mid- 
night incident  close  to  the  chateau. 

"  No  doubt  he  went  to  Paris  upon  some  im- 
portant business,"  Fetherston  said,  reassuring 
her.  "  It  was,  I  think,  foolish  of  his  wife  to  fol- 
low. At  least,  that's  my  opinion." 

He  knew  that  when  madame  arrived  in  Paris 
the  ghastly  truth  must,  sooner  or  later,  be  re- 
vealed. 


CHAPTER  XX 

IN    WHICH    A   TRUTH    IS   TOLD 

As  Fetherston  sat  there,  still  chatting  with  his 
well-beloved,  he  felt  a  hatred  of  himself  for  be- 
ing thus  compelled  to  deceive  her — to  withhold 
from  her  the  hideous  truth  of  Paul's  arrest. 

After  all,  silence  was  best.  If  Walter  spoke 
to  the  girl  before  him,  then  he  must  of  necessity 
reveal  his  own  connection  with  the  affair.  He 
knew  she  had  been  puzzled  by  his  presence  in 
France,  but  his  explanation,  he  hoped,  had  been 
sufficient.  He  had  assured  her  that  the  only  mo- 
tive of  his  journey  had  been  to  be  near  her, 
which  was,  indeed,  no  untruth. 

He  saw  that  Enid  was  not  altogether  at  her 
ease  in  his  presence.  Perhaps  it  was  because  of 
those  questions  and  his  plain  outspokenness 
when  last  they  met,  on  that  forest  road,  where 
they  had  discussed  the  strange  death  of  Harry 
Bellairs. 

On  that  evening,  full  of  suspicion  and  appre- 
hension, he  had  decided  to  tear  himself  away 
from  her.  But,  alas!  he  had  found  himself 
powerless  to  do  so.  Pity  and  sympathy  filled 

207 


208          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

his  heart;  therefore,  how  could  he  turn  from 
her  and  abandon  her  at  this  moment  of  her  peril  ? 
It  was  on  the  next  day  that  he  had  discerned 
Weirmarsh's  sinister  intentions.  Therefore,  he 
had  risen  to  watch  and  to  combat  them. 

Some  of  his  suspicions  had  been  confirmed, 
nevertheless  his  chief  object  had  not  yet  been 
attained — the  elucidation  of  the  mystery  sur- 
rounding the  remarkable  death  of  Bellairs. 

He  was  about  to  refer  again  to  that  tragic 
incident  when  Enid  said  suddenly:  "Doctor 
Weirmarsh  called  and  saw  Sir  Hugh  this  morn- 
ing. You  told  me  to  tell  you  when  next  he 
called." 

;<  Weirmarsh ! "  exclaimed  the  novelist  in 
surprise.  "  I  was  not  aware  that  he  was  in 
London! " 

"  He's  been  abroad — in  Copenhagen,  I 
think.  He  has  a  brother  living  there." 

"  He  had  a  private  talk  with  your  stepfather, 
of  course?  " 

'  Yes,  as  usual,  they  were  in  the  study  for 
quite  a  long  time — nearly  two  hours.  And," 
added  the  girl,  "  I  believe  that  at  last  they  quar- 
relled. If  they  have,  I'm  awfully  glad,  for  I 
hate  that  man! " 

"  Did  you  overhear  them? "  asked  Fether- 
ston  anxiously,  apprehensive  lest  an  open  quar- 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Told       209 

rel  had  actually  taken  place.  He  knew  well  that 
Josef  Blot,  alias  Weirmarsh,  was  not  a  man  to 
be  trifled  with.  If  Sir  Hugh  had  served  his  pur- 
pose, as  he  no  doubt  had,  then  he  would  be  be- 
trayed to  the  police  without  compunction,  just 
as  ethers  had  been. 

Walter  Fetherston  grew  much  perturbed  at 
the  knowledge  of  this  quarrel  between  the  pair. 
His  sole  aim  was  to  protect  Sir  Hugh,  yet  how 
to  act  he  knew  not. 

'  You  did  not  actually  hear  any  of  the  words 
spoken,  I  suppose?  "  he  inquired  of  Enid. 

"  Not  exactly,  except  that  I  heard  my  step- 
father denounce  the  doctor  as  an  infernal  cur 
and  blackguard." 

'  Well,  and  what  did  Weirmarsh  reply?  " 

"  He  threatened  Sir  Hugh,  saying,  *  You 
shall  suffer  for  those  words — you,  who  owe 
everything  to  me ! '  I  wonder,"  added  the  girl, 
"what  he  meant  by  that?" 

"  Who  knows!  "  exclaimed  Walter.  "  Some 
secret  exists  between  them.  You  told  me  that 
you  suspected  it  long  ago." 

"  And  I  do,"  she  said,  lowering  her  voice. 
"  That  man  holds  Sir  Hugh  in  the  hollow  of  his 
hand — of  that  I'm  sure.  I  have  noticed  after 
each  of  the  doctor's  visits  how  pale  and  thought- 
ful he  always  is." 


210          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Have  you  tried  to  learn  the  reason  of  it 
all?  "  inquired  the  novelist  quietly,  his  gaze  fixed 
upon  her. 

"  I  have,"  she  replied,  with  slight  hesitation. 

Walter  Fetherston  contemplated  in  silence 
the  fine  cat's-eye  and  diamond  ring  upon  his 
finger — a  ring  sent  him  long  ago  by  an  anony- 
mous admirer  of  his  books,  which  he  had  ever 
since  worn  as  a  mascot. 

At  one  moment  he  held  this  girl  in  distinct 
suspicion;  at  the  next,  however,  he  realised  her 
peril,  and  resolved  to  stand  by  her  as  her  cham- 
pion. 

Did  he  really  and  honestly  love  her?  He 
put  that  question  to  himself  a  thousand  times. 
And  for  the  thousandth  time  was  he  compelled 
to  answer  in  the  affirmative. 

"  By  which  route  do  you  intend  travelling  to 
Italy  to-morrow?"  he  asked. 

"  By  Paris  and  Modane.  We  go  first  for  a 
week  to  Nervi,  on  the  coast  beyond  Genoa,"  was 
her  reply. 

Fetherston  paused.  If  she  put  foot  in 
France  she  would,  he  knew,  be  at  once  placed 
under  arrest  as  an  accomplice  of  Paul  Le  Pon- 
tois.  When  Weirmarsh  took  revenge  he  always 
did  his  work  well.  No  doubt  the  French  police 
were  already  at  Calais  awaiting  her  arrival. 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Told       2111 

"  I  would  change  the  route/'  he  suggested. 
"  Go  by  Ostend,  Strasburg  and  Milan." 

"  Mrs.  Caldwell  has  already  taken  our 
tickets,"  she  said.  "  Besides,  it  is  a  terribly  long 
way  round  by  that  route." 

"  I  know,"  he  murmured.  "  But  it  will  be 
best.  I  have  a  reason — a  strong  reason,  Enid, 
for  urging  you  to  go  by  Ostend." 

"It  is  not  in  my  power  to  do  so.  Jane  al- 
ways makes  our  travelling  arrangements.  Be- 
sides, we  have  sleeping  berths  secured  on  the 
night  rapide  from  the  Gare  de  Lyon  to  Turin." 

"  I  will  see  Mrs.  Caldwell,  and  get  her  tickets 
changed,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  understand,  Enid? 
There  are  reasons — very  strong  reasons — why 
you  should  not  travel  across  France !  " 

"  No,  I  don't,"  declared  the  girl.  "  You  are 
mysterious  again.  Why  don't  you  be  open  with 
me  and  give  me  your  reasons  for  this  sugges- 
tion?" 

"  I  would  most  willingly — if  I  could,"  he  an- 
swered. "  Unfortunately,  I  cannot." 

"  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Caldwell  will  travel  by 
the  roundabout  route  which  you  suggest  merely 
because  you  have  a  whim  that  we  should  not 
cross  France,"  she  remarked,  looking  straight 
at  him. 

"  If  you  enter  France  a  disaster  will  happen 


212          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

— depend  upon  it,"  he  said,  speaking  very 
slowly,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her. 

"  Are  you  a  prophet? "  the  girl  asked. 
"  Can  you  prophesy  dreadful  things  to  happen 
to  us?  " 

"  I  do  in  this  case,"  he  said  firmly.  '  There- 
fore, take  my  advice  and  do  not  court  disaster." 

"  Can't  you  be  more  explicit? "  she  asked, 
much  puzzled  by  his  strange  words. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  shaking  his  head,  "  I 
cannot.  I  only  forewarn  you  of  what  must  hap- 
pen. Therefore,  I  beg  of  you  to  take  my  advice 
and  travel  by  the  alternative  route — if  you  really 
must  go  to  Italy." 

She  turned  towards  the  fire  and,  fixing  her 
gaze  upon  the  flames,  remained  for  a  few  mo- 
ments in  thought,  one  neat  foot  upon  the  marble 
kerb. 

*  You  really  alarm  me  with  all  these  serious 
utterances,"  she  said  at  last,  with  a  faint,  ner- 
vous laugh. 

He  rose  and  stood  by  her  side. 

"  Look  here,  Enid,"  he  said,  "  can't  you  see 
that  I  am  in  dead  earnest?  Have  I  not  already 
declared  that  I  am  your  friend,  to  assist  you 
against  that  man  Weirmarsh?" 

'  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  you  have." 

"  Then   will    you   not   heed   my   warning? 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Told       213 

There  is  distinct  danger  in  your  visit  to  France 
— a  danger  of  which  you  have  no  suspicion,  but 
real  and  serious  nevertheless.  Don't  think  about 
spying;  it  is  not  that,  I  assure  you," 

"  How  can  I  avoid  it?  " 

"  By  pretending  to  be  unwell,"  he  suggested 
quickly.  '  You  cannot  leave  with  Mrs.  Cald- 
well.  Let  her  go,  and  you  can  join  her  a  few 
days  later,  travelling  by  Ostend.  The  thing  is 
quite  simple." 

"  But- 

"  No,  you  must  not  hesitate,"  he  declared. 
'  There  are  no  buts.  It  is  the  only  way." 

'  Yes ;  but  tell  me  what  terrible  thing  is  to 
happen  to  me  if  I  enter  France? "  she  asked, 
with  an  uneasy  laugh. 

The  man  hesitated.  To  speak  the  truth 
would  be  to  explain  all.  Therefore  he  only 
shook  his  head  and  said,  "  Please  do  not  ask  me 
to  explain  a  matter  of  which  I  am  not  permitted 
to  speak.  If  you  believe  me,  Enid,"  he  said  in 
a  low,  pleading  voice,  "  do  heed  my  warning,  I 
beg  of  you! " 

As  he  uttered  these  words  the  handle  of  the 
door  turned,  and  Lady  Elcombe,  warmly  clad  in 
furs,  came  forward  to  greet  the  novelist. 

"I'm  so  glad  that  I  returned  before  you  left, 
Mr.  Fetherston,"  she  exclaimed.  "  We've  been 


214          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

to  a  most  dreary  play;  and  I'm  simply  dying 
for  some  tea.  Enid,  ring  the  bell,  dear,  will 
you?"  Then  continuing,  she  added  in  warm 
enthusiasm :  "  Really,  Mr.  Fetherston,  you  are 
quite  a  stranger!  We  hoped  to  see  more  of  you, 
but  my  husband  and  daughter  have  been  away 
in  France — as  perhaps  you  know." 

"  So  Enid  has  been  telling  me,"  replied  Wal- 
ter. "  They've  been  in  a  most  interesting  dis- 
trict." 

"  Enid  is  leaving  us  again  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," remarked  her  mother.  ;£  They  are  going 
to  Nervi.  You  know  it,  of  course,  for  I've  heard 
you  called  the  living  Baedeker,  Mr.  Fether- 
ston," she  laughed. 

'  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  know  it — a  rather  dull 
little  place,  with  one  or  two  villas.  I  prefer 
Santa  Margherita,  a  little  farther  along  the  coast 
— or  Rapallo.  But,"  he  added,  "  your  daughter 
tells  me  she's  not  well.  I  hope  she  will  not  be 
compelled  to  postpone  her  departure." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Lady  Elcombe  de- 
cisively. "  She  must  go  to-morrow  if  she  goes 
at  all.  I  will  not  allow  her  to  travel  by  herself." 

The  girl  and  the  man  exchanged  meaning 
glances,  and  just  then  Sir  Hugh  himself  entered, 
greeting  his  visitor  cheerily. 


In  which  a  Truth  is  Told       215 

The  butler  brought  in  the  tea-tray,  and  as 
they  sat  together  the  two  men  chatted. 

In  pretence  that  he  had  not  been  abroad, 
Walter  was  making  inquiry  regarding  the  dis- 
trict around  Haudiomont,  which  he  declared 
must  be  full  of  interest,  and  asking  the  general's 
opinion  of  the  French  new  fortresses  in  antici- 
pation of  the  new  war  against  Germany. 

"  Since  I  have  been  away,"  said  the  general, 
"  I  have  been  forced  to  arrive  at  the  conclusion 
that  another  danger  may  arrive  in  the  very  near 
future.  Germany  will  try  and  attack  France 
again — without  a  doubt.  The  French  are 
labouring  under  a  dangerous  delusion  if  they 
suppose  that  Germany  would  be  satisfied  with 
hei*  obscurity." 

"Is  that  really  your  opinion,  Sir  Hugh?" 
asked  Fetherston,  somewhat  surprised. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  general's  reply. 
"  There  will  be  another  war  in  the  near  future. 
My  opinions  have  changed  of  late,  my  dear 
Fetherston,"  Sir  Hugh  assured  him,  as  he  sipped 
his  tea,  "  and  more  especially  since  I  went  to 
visit  my  daughter.  I  have  recently  had  oppor- 
tunities of  seeing  and  learning  a  good  deal." 

Fetherston  reflected.  Those  words,  coming 
from  Sir  Hugh,  were  certainly  strange  ones. 

Walter  was  handing  Enid  the  cake  when  the 


2i 6          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

butler  entered,  bearing  a  telegram  upon  a  silver 
salver,  which  he  handed  to  Sir  Hugh. 

Tearing  it  open,  he  glanced  at  the  message 
eagerly,  and  a  second  later,  with  blanched  face, 
stood  rigid,  statuesque,  as  though  turned  into 
stone. 

'  Why,  what's  the  matter?  "  asked  his  wife. 
"  Whom  is  it  from? " 

"  Only  from  Blanche,"  he  answered  in  a  low, 
strained  voice.  "  She  is  in  Paris — and  is  leav- 
ing to-night  for  London." 

"  Is  Paul  coming?  "  inquired  Enid  eagerly. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  with  a  strenuous  effort 
to  remain  calm.  "  He — he  cannot  leave  Paris." 

The  butler,  being  told  there  was  no  answer, 
bowed  and  withdrew,  but  a  few  seconds  later  the 
door  reopened,  and  he  announced: 

"Dr.  Weirmarsh,  Sir  Hugh!" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE    WIDENED    BREACH 

WHEN  Sir  Hugh  entered  his  cosy  study  he 
found  the  doctor  seated  at  his  ease  in  the  big 
chair  by  the  fire. 

"  I  thought  that,  being  in  the  vicinity,  I 
would  call  and  see  if  you've  recovered  from  your 
— well,  your  silly  fit  of  irritability,"  he  said,  with 
a  grim  smile  on  his  grey  face  as  he  looked 
towards  the  general. 

"  I  have  just  received  bad  news — news  which 
I  have  all  along  dreaded,"  replied  the  unhappy 
man,  the  telegram  still  in  his  hand.  "  Paul  Le 
Pontois  has  been  arrested  on  some  mysterious 
charge — false,  without  a  doubt!  " 

'  Yes,"  replied  Weirmarsh ;  "it  is  most  un- 
fortunate. I  heard  it  an  hour  ago,  and  the  real 
reason  of  my  visit  was  to  tell  you  of  the  contre- 
temps." 

"  Someone  must  have  made  a  false  charge 
against  him,"  cried  the  general  excitedly.  '  The 
poor  fellow  is  innocent — entirely  innocent!  I 
only  have  a  brief  telegram  from  his  wife.  She 
is  in  despair,  and  leaves  for  London  to-night." 

217 


218          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  My  dear  Sir  Hugh,  France  is  in  a  very 
hysterical  mood  just  now.  Of  course,  there 
must  be  some  mistake.  Some  private  enemy  of 
his  has  made  the  charge  without  a  doubt — some- 
one jealous  of  his  position,  perhaps.  Allega- 
tions are  easily  made,  though  not  so  easily  sub- 
stantiated." 

"  Except  by  manufactured  evidence  and 
forged  documents,"  snapped  Sir  Hugh.  "  If 
Paul  is  the  victim  of  some  political  party  and 
is  to  be  made  a  scapegoat,  then  Heaven  help 
him,  poor  fellow.  They  will  never  allow  him  to 
prove  his  innocence,  unless " 

"  Unless  what? " 

"  Unless  I  come  forward,"  he  said  very 
slowly,  staring  straight  before  him.  "  Unless 
I  come  forward  and  tell  the  truth  of  my  deal- 
ings with  you.  The  charges  against  Paul  are 
false.  I  know  it  now.  What  have  you  to  say?  " 
he  added  in  a  low,  hard  voice. 

"A  great  deal  of  good  that  would  do!" 
laughed  Weirmarsh,  selecting  a  cigarette  from 
his  gold  case  and  lighting  it,  regarding  his  host 
with  those  narrow-set,  sinister  eyes  of  his.  "  It 
would  only  implicate  Le  Pontois  further.  They 
would  say,  and  with  truth,  that  you  knew  of  the 
whole  conspiracy  and  had  profited  by  it." 

"  I  should  tell  them  what  I  know  concerning 


The  Widened  Breach  219 

you.  Indeed,  I  wrote  out  a  full  statement  while 
I  was  staying  with  Paul.  And  I  have  it  ready 
to  hand  for  the  authorities." 

'  You  can  do  so,  of  course,  if  you  choose," 
was  the  careless  reply.  "  It  really  doesn't  mat- 
ter to  me  what  statement  you  make.  You  have 
always  preserved  silence  up  to  the  present,  there- 
fore I  should  believe  that  in  this  case  silence  was 
still  golden." 

"  And  you  suggest  that  I  stand  calmly  by 
and  see  Le  Pontois  sentenced  to  a  long  term  of 
imprisonment  for  a  crime  which  he  has  not  com- 
mitted, eh?  " 

"  I  don't  suggest  anything,  my  dear  Sir 
Hugh,"  was  the  man's  reply;  "  I  leave  it  all  to 
your  good  judgment." 

Since  they  had  met  in  secret  Weirmarsh  had 
made  a  flying  visit  to  Brussels,  where  he  had 
conferred  with  two  friends  of  his.  Upon  their 
suggestion  he  was  now  acting. 

If  Paul  Le  Pontois  were  secretly  denounced 
and  afterwards  found  innocent,  then  it  would 
only  mystify  the  French  police;  the  policy  pur- 
sued towards  the  Surete,  as  well  as  towards  Sir 
Hugh,  was  a  clever  move  on  Weirmarsh's  part. 

'  What  am  I  to  say  to  my  poor  girl  when 
she  arrives  here  in  tears  to-morrow? "  demanded 
the  fine  old  British  officer  hoarsely. 


220          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

'  You  know  that  best  yourself,"  was  Weir- 
marsh's  brusque  reply. 

"  To  you  I  owe  all  my  recent  troubles,"  the 
elder  man  declared.  "  Because — because,"  he 
added  bitterly,  "  you  bought  me  up  body  and 
soul." 

"A  mere  business  arrangement,  wasn't  it, 
Sir  Hugh?  "  remarked  his  visitor.  "  Of  course, 
I'm  very  sorry  if  any  great  trouble  has  fallen 
upon  you  on  my  account.  I  hope,  for  instance, 
you  do  not  suspect  me  of  conspiring  to  denounce 
your  son-in-law,"  he  added. 

*  Well,  I  don't  know,"  was  the  other's  reply; 
"  yet  I  feel  that,  in  view  of  this  contretemps,  I 
must  in  future  break  off  all  connection  with 
you." 

"  And  lose  the  annual  grant  which  you  find 
so  extremely  useful?" 

"  I  shall  be  compelled  to  do  without  it.  And, 
at  least,  I  shall  have  peace  of  mind." 

"  Perhaps,"  remarked  the  other  meaningly. 

Sir  Hugh  realised  that  this  man  intended 
still  to  hold  him  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  From 
that  one  false  step  he  had  taken  years  ago  he  had 
never  been  able  to  draw  back. 

Hour  by  hour,  and  day  by  day,  had  his  con- 
science pricked  him.  Those  chats  with  the  doc- 


The  Widened  Breach  221 

tor  in  that  grimy  little  consulting-room  in  Pim- 
lico  remained  ever  in  his  memory. 

The  doctor  was  the  representative  of  those 
who  held  him  in  their  power — persons  who  were 
being  continually  hunted  by  the  police,  yet  who 
always  evaded  them — criminals  all!  To  insult 
him  would  be  to  insult  those  who  had  paid  him  so 
well  for  his  confidential  services. 

Yet,  filled  with  contempt  for  himself,  he 
asked  whether  he  did  not  deserve  to  be  degraded 
publicly,  and  drummed  out  of  the  army. 

Were  it  not  for  Lady  Elcombe  and  Enid  he 
would  long  ago  have  gone  to  East  Africa  and 
effaced  himself.  But  he  could  not  bring  himself 
to  desert  them. 

He  had  satisfied  himself  that  not  a  soul  in 
England  suspected  the  truth,  for,  by  the  Press, 
he  had  long  ago  been  declared  to  be  a  patriotic 
Briton,  because  in  his  stirring  public  speeches, 
when  he  had  put  up  for  Parliament  after  the 
armistice,  there  was  always  a  genuine  "  John 
Bull "  ring. 

The  truth  was  that  he  remained  unsuspected 
by  all — save  by  one  man  who  had  scented  the 
truth.  That  man  was  Walter  Fetherston! 

Walter  alone  knew  the  ghastly  circum- 
stances, and  it  was  he  who  had  been  working  to 
save  the  old  soldier  from  himself.  He  did  so  for 


222          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

two  reasons — first,  because  he  was  fond  of  the 
bluff ,  fearless  old  fellow,  and,  secondly,  because 
he  had  been  attracted  by  Enid,  and  intended  to 
rescue  her  from  the  evil  thraldom  of  Weirmarsh. 
'  Why  have  you  returned  here  to  taunt  and 
irritate  me  again? "  snapped  Sir  Hugh  after  a 
pause. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  news  which,  apparently, 
you  have  already  received." 

'  You  could  well  have  kept  it.  You  knew 
that  I  should  be  informed  in  due  course." 

'  Yes — but  I — well,  I  thought  you  might 
grow  apprehensive  perhaps." 

"  In  what  direction?  " 

:<  That  your  connection  with  the  little  affair 
might  be  discovered  by  the  French  police. 
Bezard,  the  new  chief  of  the  Surete,  is  a  pretty 
shrewd  person,  remember!" 

"  But,  surely,  that  is  not  possible,  is  it? " 
gasped  the  elder  man  in  quick  alarm. 

"  No;  you  can  reassure  yourself  on  that 
point.  Le  Pontois  knows  nothing,  therefore  he 
can  make  no  statement — unless,  of  course,  your 
own  actions  were  suspicious." 

"  They  were  not — I  am  convinced  of  that." 

;<  Then  you  have  no  need  to  fear.  Your  son- 
in-law  will  certainly  not  endeavour  to  implicate 
you.  And  if  he  did,  he  would  not  be  believed," 


The  Widened  Breach  223 

declared  the  doctor,  although  he  well  knew  that 
Bezard  was  in  possession  of  full  knowledge  of 
the  whole  truth,  and  that,  only  by  the  timely 
warning  he  had  so  mysteriously  received,  had 
this  man  before  him  and  his  stepdaughter  es- 
caped arrest. 

His  dastardly  plot  to  secure  their  ruin  and 
imprisonment  had  failed.  How  the  girl  had  ob- 
tained wind  of  it  utterly  mystified  him.  It  was 
really  in  order  to  discover  the  reason  of  their 
sudden  flight  that  he  had  made  those  two  visits. 

"  Look  here,  Weirmarsh,"  exclaimed  Sir 
Hugh  with  sudden  resolution,  "  I  wish  you  to 
understand  that  from  to-day,  once  and  for  all, 
I  desire  to  have  no  further  dealings  with  you. 
It  was,  as  you  have  said,  a  purely  business  trans- 
action. Well,  I  have  done  the  dirty,  disgraceful 
work  for  which  you  have  paid  me,  and  now  my 
task  is  at  an  end." 

"  I  hardly  think  it  is,  my  dear  Sir  Hugh," 
replied  the  doctor  calmly.  "  As  I  have  said  be- 
fore, I  am  only  the  mouthpiece — I  am  not  the 
employer.  But  I  believe  that  certain  further 
assistance  is  required — information  which  you 
promised  long  ago,  but  failed  to  procure." 

"  What  was  that?  " 

"  You  recollect  that  you  promised  to  obtain 


224          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

something — a    little    tittle-tattle — concerning    a 
lady." 

'  Yes,"  snapped  the  old  officer,  "  oh,  Lady 
Wansford.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else!  " 

Weirmarsh,  who  had  been  narrowly  watch- 
ing the  countenance  of  his  victim,  saw  that  he 
had  mentioned  a  disagreeable  subject.  He 
noted  how  pale  were  the  general's  cheeks,  and 
how  his  thin  hands  twitched  with  suppressed 
excitement. 

"  I  am  quite  ready  to  talk  of  other  matters," 
he  answered,  "  though  I  deem  it  but  right  to  re- 
fer to  my  instructions." 

"  And  what  are  they?  " 

4  To  request  you  to  supply  the  promised  in- 
formation." 

"But  I  can't— I  really  can't!" 

*  You  made  a  promise,  remember.  And 
upon  that  promise  I  made  you  a  loan  of  five  hun- 
dred pounds." 

"  I  know !  "  cried  the  unhappy  man,  who  had 
sunk  so  deeply  into  the  mire  that  extrication 
seemed  impossible.  "I  know!  But  it  is  a 
promise  that  I  can't  fulfil.  I  won't  be  your  tool 
any  longer.  Gad!  I  won't.  Don't  you  hear 
me?" 

'  You  must!  "  declared  Weirmarsh,  bend- 
ing forward  and  looking  straight  into  his  eyes. 


The  Widened  Breach  225 

"I  will  not!"  shouted  Sir  Hugh,  his  eyes 
flashing  with  quick  anger.  "  Anything  but 
that." 

"Why?" 

"  My  efforts  in  that  direction  had  tragic  re- 
sults on  the  last  occasion." 

"  Ah!  "  laughed  Weirmarsh.  "  I  see  you 
are  superstitious — or  something.  I  did  not  ex- 
pect that  of  you." 

"  I  am  not  superstitious,  Weirmarsh.  I  only 
refuse  to  do  what  you  wrant.  If  I  gave  it  to  you, 
it  would  mean — no  I  won't — I  tell  you  I 
won't!" 

"Bah!    You  are  growing  sentimental!" 

"  No — I  am  growing  wise.  My  eyes  are  at 
last  opened  to  the  dastardly  methods  of  you  and 
your  infernal  friends.  Hear  me,  once  and  for 
all;  I  refuse  to  assist  you  further;  and,  more- 
over, I  defy  you !  " 

The  doctor  was  silent  for  a  moment,  contem- 
plating the  ruby  on  his  finger.  Then,  rising 
slowly  from  his  chair,  he  said:  "  Ah!  you  do  not 
fully  realise  what  your  refusal  may  cost  you." 

"  Cost  what  it  may,  Weirmarsh,  I  ask  you 
to  leave  my  house  at  once,"  said  the  general, 
scarlet  with  anger  and  beside  himself  with  re- 
morse. "  And  I  shall  give  orders  that  you  are 
not  again  to  be  admitted  here." 


226          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

'  Very  good !  "  laughed  the  other,  with  a  sin- 
ister grin.  '  You  will  very  soon  be  seeking  me 
in  niy  surgery." 

:<  We  shall  see,"  replied  Sir  Hugh,  with  a 
shrug  of  his  shoulders,  as  the  other  strode  out 
of  his  room. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

CONCERNING  THE  BELLAIRS  AFFAIB 

WHAT  Walter  Fetherston  had  feared  had  hap- 
pened. The  two  men  had  quarrelled!  Through- 
out the  wlwle  of  that  evening  he  watched  the 
doctor's  movements. 

In  any  other  country  but  our  dear  old  hood- 
winked England,  Fetherston,  in  the  ordinary 
course,  would  have  been  the  recipient  of  high 
honours  from  the  Sovereign.  But  he  was  a 
writer,  and  not  a  financier.  He  could  not  af- 
ford to  subscribe  to  the  party  funds,  a  course 

suggested  by  the  flat-footed  old  Lady  G , 

who  was  the  tout  of  Government  Whips. 

Walter  preferred  to  preserve  his  independ- 
ence. He  had  seen  and  known  much  during  the 
war,  and,  disgusted,  he  preferred  to  adopt  the 
Canadian  Government's  decree  and  remain 
without  "  honours." 

His  pet  phrase  was:  'The  extent  of  a 
Party's  dishonours  is  known  by  the  honours  it 
bestows.  Scraps  of  ribbon,  '  X.Y.Z.'  or  O.B.E. 
behind  one's  name  can  neither  make  the  gentle- 
man nor  create  the  lady." 

27 


228          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

His  secret  connection  with  Scotland  Yard, 
which  was  purely  patriotic  and  conducted  as  a 
student  of  underground  crime,  had  taught  him 
many  strange  things,  and  he  had  learnt  many 
remarkable  secrets.  Some  of  them  were,  indeed, 
his  secrets  before  they  became  secrets  of  the 
Cabinet. 

Many  of  those  secrets  he  kept  to  himself, 
one  being  the  remarkable  truth  that  General  Sir 
Hugh  Elcombe  was  implicated  in  a  very  strange 
jumble  of  affairs — a  matter  that  was  indeed 
incredible. 

To  the  tall,  well-groomed,  military-looking 
man  with  whom  he  stood  at  eleven  o'clock  on  the 
following  morning — in  a  private  room  at  New 
Scotland  Yard — he  had  never  confided  that  dis- 
covery of  his.  To  have  done  so  would  have  been 
to  betray  a  man  who  had  a  brilliant  record  as  a 
soldier,  and  who  still  held  high  position  at  the 
War  Office. 

By  such  denunciation  he  knew  he  might  earn 
from  "  the  eyes  of  the  Government "  very  high 
commendation,  in  addition  to  what  he  had  al- 
ready earned,  yet  he  had  resolved,  if  possible, 
to  save  the  old  officer,  who  was  really  more 
sinned  against  than  sinning. 

'  You  seem  to  keep  pretty  close  at  the  heels 
of  your  friend,  the  doctor  of  Vauxhall  Bridge 


Concerning  the  Bellairs  Affair    229 

Road! "  laughed  Trendall,  the  director  of  the 
department,  as  they  stood  together  in  the  big, 
airy,  official-looking  room,  the  two  long  windows 
of  which  looked  out  over  Westminster  Bridge. 

'  You've  been  in,  France,  Montgomery  says. 
What  was  your  friend  doing  there  ? " 

"  He's  been  there  against  his  will — very 
much  against  his  will!" 

"  And  you've  found  out  something — eh?  " 
'  Yes,"  replied  Fetherston.     "  One  or  two 
things." 

"  Something  interesting,  of  course,"  re- 
marked the  shrewd,  active,  dark-haired  man  of 
fifty,  under  whose  control  was  one  of  the  most 
important  departments  of  Scotland  Yard. 
"  But  tell  me,  in  what  direction  is  this  versatile 
doctor  of  yours  working  just  at  the  present?" 

"  I  hardly  know,"  was  the  novelist's  reply,  as 
in  a  navy  serge  suit  he  leaned  near  the  window 
which  overlooked  the  Thames.  "  I  believe  some 
deep  scheme  is  afoot,  but  at  present  I  cannot 
see  very  far.  For  that  reason  I  am  remaining 
watchful." 

"He  does  not  suspect  you,  of  course?  If 
he  does,  I'd  give  you  Harris,  or  Charlesworth, 
or  another  of  the  men — in  fact,  whoever  you  like 
— to  assist  you." 

"  Perhaps    I   may   require   someone   before 


230          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

long.  If  so,  I  will  write  or  wire  to  the  usual  pri- 
vate box  at  the  General  Post  Office,  and  shall 
then  be  glad  if  you  will  send  a  man  to  meet  me." 

"  Certainly.  It  was  you,  Fetherston,  who 
first  discovered  the  existence  of  this  interesting 
doctor,  who  had  already  lived  in  Vauxhall 
Bridge  Road  for  eighteen  months  without  arous- 
ing suspicion.  You  have,  indeed,  a  fine  nose 
for  mysteries." 

At  that  moment  the  telephone,  standing 
upon  the  big  writing-table,  rang  loudly,  and  the 
man  of  secrets  crossed  to  it  and  listened. 

"  It's  Heywood — at  Victoria  Station.  He's 
asking  for  you,"  he  exclaimed. 

Walter  went  to  the  instrument,  and  through 
it  heard  the  words:  "  The  boat  train  has  just 
gone,  sir.  Mrs.  Caldwell  waited  for  the  young 
lady  until  the  train  went  off,  but  she  did  not 
arrive.  She  seemed  annoyed  and  disappointed. 
Dr.  Weirmarsh  has  been  on  the  platform,  evi- 
dently watching  also." 

*  Thanks,  Heywood,"  replied  Fetherston 
sharply ;  "  that  was  all  I  wanted  to  know.  Good 
day." 

He  replaced  the  receiver,  and,  walking  back 
to  his  friend  against  the  window,  explained :  "  A 
simple  little  inquiry  I  was  making  regarding  a 


Concerning  the  Bellairs  Affair    231 

departure  by  the  boat  train  for  Paris — that  was 
all." 

But  he  reflected  that  if  Weirmarsh  had  been 
watching  it  must  have  been  to  warn  the  French 
police  over  at  Calais  of  the  coming  of  Enid.  No 
action  was  too  dastardly  for  that  unscrupulous 
scoundrel. 

Yet,  for  the  present  at  least,  the  girl  re- 
mained safe.  The  chief  peril  was  that  in  which 
Sir  Hugh  was  placed,  now  that  he  had  openly 
defied  the  doctor. 

On  the  previous  evening  he  had  been  in  the 
drawing-room  at  Hill  Street  when  Sir  Hugh 
had  returned  from  interviewing  the  caller.  By 
his  countenance  and  manner  he  at  once  realised 
that  the  breach  had  been  widened. 

The  one  thought  by  which  he  was  obsessed 
was  how  he  should  save  Sir  Hugh  from  disgrace. 
His  connection  with  the  Criminal  Investigation 
Department  placed  at  his  disposal  a  marvellous 
network  of  sources  of  information,  amazing  as 
they  were  unsuspected.  He  was  secretly  glad 
that  at  last  the  old  fellow  had  resolved  to  face 
bankruptcy  rather  than  go  farther  in  that 
strange  career  of  crime,  yet,  at  the  same  time, 
there  was  serious  danger — for  Weirmarsh  was  a 
man  so  unscrupulous  and  so  vindictive  that  the 


232          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

penalty  of  his  defiance  must  assuredly  be  a  se- 
vere one. 

The  very  presence  of  the  doctor  on  the  plat- 
form of  the  South  Eastern  station  at  Victoria 
that  morning  showed  that  he  did  not  intend  to 
allow  the  grass  to  grow  beneath  his  feet. 

The  novelist  was  still  standing  near  the  long 
window,  looking  aimlessly  down  upon  the  Em- 
bankment, with  its  hurrying  foot-passengers  and 
whirling  taxis. 

'  You  seem  unusually  thoughtful,  Fether- 
ston,"  remarked  Trendall  with  some  curiosity, 
as  he  seated  himself  at  the  table  and  resumed 
the  opening  of  his  letters  which  his  friend's  visit 
had  interrupted.  "  What's  the  matter?  " 

'  The  fact  is,  I'm  very  much  puzzled." 

"  About  what?  You're  generally  very  suc- 
cessful in  obtaining  solutions  where  other  men 
have  failed." 

'  To  the  problem  which  is  greatly  exercising 
my  mind  just  now  I  can  obtain  no  solution,"  he 
said  in  a  low,  intense  voice. 

"  What  is  it?    Can  I  help  you?  " 

'  Well,"  he  exclaimed,  with  some  hesitation, 
"  I  am  still  trying  to  discover  why  Harry  Bel- 
lairs  died  and  who  killed  him." 

'  That  mystery  has  long  ago  been  placed 
by  us  among  those  which  admit  of  no  solution, 


Concerning  the  Bellairs  Affair    233 

my  dear  fellow,"  declared  his  friend.  '  We  did 
our  best  to  throw  some  light  upon  it,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  I  set  the  whole  of  our  machinery 
at  work  at  the  time — days  before  you  suspected 
anything  wrong — but  not  a  trace  of  the  truth 
could  we  find." 

"  But  what  could  have  been  the  motive,  do 
you  imagine?  From  all  accounts  he  was  a  most 
popular  young  officer,  without  a  single  enemy 
in  the  world." 

"  Jealousy,"  was  the  dark  man's  slow  reply. 
"  My  own  idea  is  that  a  woman  killed  him." 

"Why?"  cried  Walter  quickly.  "What 
causes  you  to  make  such  a  suggestion?" 

'  Well — listen,  and  when  I've  finished  you 
can  draw  your  own  conclusions." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  SILENCE  OF  THE  MAN  BARKER 

"  HARRY  BELLAIRS  was  an  old  friend  of  mine," 
Trendall  went  on,  leaning  back  in  his  padded 
writing-chair  and  turning  towards  where  the 
novelist  was  standing.  "  His  curious  end  was 
a  problem  which,  of  course,  attracted  you  as  a 
writer  of  fiction.  The  world  believed  his  death 
to  be  due  to  natural  causes,  in  view  of  the  failure 
of  Professors  Dale  and  Boyd,  the  Home  Office 
analysts,  to  find  a  trace  of  poison  or  of  foul 
play." 

'  You  believe,  then,  that  he  was  poisoned?  " 
asked  Fetherston  quickly. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders,  saying: 
"  How  can  that  point  be  cleared  up?  There 
was  no  evidence  of  it." 

"It  is  curious  that,  though  we  are  both  so 
intensely  interested  in  the  problem,  we  have 
never  before  discussed  it,"  remarked  Walter. 
'  I  am  so  anxious  to  hear  your  views  upon  one 
or  two  points.  What,  for  instance,  do  you  think 
of  Barker,  the  dead  man's  valet?  " 

234 


The  Silence  of  the  Man  Barker  235 

Herbert  Trendall  hesitated,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment twisted  his  moustache.  He  was  a  marvel- 
lously alert  man,  an  unusually  good  linguist,  and 
a  cosmopolitan  to  his  finger-tips.  He  had  been 
a  detective-sergeant  in  the  T  Division  of  Metro- 
politan Police  for  years  before  his  appointment 
as  director  of  that  section.  He  knew  more  of 
the  criminal  undercurrents  on  the  Continent 
than  any  living  Englishman,  and  it  was  he  who 
furnished  accurate  information  to  the  Surete  in 
Paris  concerning  the  great  Humbert  swindle. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  if  I  recollect  aright,  the 
inquiries  regarding  him  were  not  altogether 
satisfactory.  Previous  to  his  engagement  by 
Harry  he  had,  it  seems,  been  valet  to  a  man 
named  Mitchell,  a  horse-trainer  of  rather  shady 
repute." 

'*  Where  is  he  now?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know,  but  I  can  easily  find, 
out — I  gave  orders  that  he  was  not  to  be  lost 
sight  of."  And,  scribbling  a  hasty  memoran- 
dum, he  pressed  the  electric  button  upon  the  arm 
of  his  chair. 

His  secretary,  a  tall,  thin,  deep -eyed  man, 
entered,  and  to  him  he  gave  the  note. 

*  Well,  let  us  proceed  while  they  are  looking 
up  the  information,"  the  chief  went  on. 
"  Harry  Bellairs,  as  you  know,  was  on  the  staff 


236          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

of  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe,  that  dear,  harmless  old 
friend  of  yours  who  inspects  troops  and  seems  to 
do  odd  jobs  for  Whitehall.  I  knew  Harry  before 
he  went  to  Sandhurst;  his  people,  who  lived  up 
near  Durham,  were  very  civil  to  me  once  or 
twice  and  gave  me  some  excellent  pheasant- 
shooting.  It  seems  that  on  that  day  in  Septem- 
ber he  came  up  to  town  from  Salisbury — but  you 
know  all  the  facts,  of  course?  " 

"  I  know  all  the  facts  as  far  as  they  were 
related  in  the  papers,"  Walter  said.  He  did  not 
reveal  the  results  of  the  close  independent  in- 
quiries he  had  already  made — results  which  had 
utterly  astounded,  and  at  the  same  time  mys- 
tified, him. 

"Well,"  said  Trendall,  "what  the  Press 
published  was  mostly  fiction.  Even  the  evidence 
given  before  the  coroner  was  utterly  unreliable. 
It  was  mainly  given  in  order  to  mislead  the  jury 
and  prevent  public  suspicion  that  there  had  been 
a  sensational  tragedy — I  arranged  it  so." 

"  And  there  had  been  a  tragedy,  no  doubt?  " 

"  Of  course,"  declared  the  other,  leaning  both 
elbows  upon  the  table  before  him  and  looking 
straight  into  the  novelist's  pale  face.  :<  Harry 
came  up  from  Salisbury,  the  bearer  of  some 
papers  from  Sir  Hugh.  He  duly  arrived  at 
Waterloo,  discharged  his  duty,  and  went  to  his 


The  Silence  of  the  Man  Barker  237 

rooms  in  Half  Moon  Street.  Now,  according 
to  Barker's  story,  his  master  arrived  home  early 
in  the  afternoon,  and  sent  him  out  on  a  message 
to  Richmond.  He  returned  a  little  after  five, 
when  he  found  his  master  absent." 

'  That  was  the  account  he  gave  at  the  in- 
quest," remarked  Fetherston. 

'  Yes ;  but  it  was  not  the  truth.  On  testing 
the  man's  story  I  discovered  that  at  three- 
eighteen  he  was  in  the  Leicester  Lounge,  in 
Leicester  Square,  with  an  ill-dressed  old  man, 
who  was  described  as  being  short  and  wearing  a 
rusty,  old  silk  hat.  They  sat  at  a  table  near  the 
window  drinking  ginger-ale,  so  that  the  barmaid! 
could  not  overhear,  and  held  a  long  and  confi- 
dential chat." 

"  He  may  afterwards  have  gone  down  to 
Richmond,"  his  friend  suggested. 

"  No;  he  remained  there  until  past  four,  and 
then  went  round  to  the  Cafe  Royal,  where  he 
met  another  man,  a  foreigner,  of  about  his  own 
age,  believed  to  have  been  a  Swiss,  with  whom 
he  took  a  cup  of  coffee.  The  man  was  a  stranger 
at  the  cafe,  probably  a  stranger  in  London. 
Barker  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  a  little  betting, 
and  I  believe  the  men  he  met  were  some  of  his 
betting  friends." 

"  Then  you  disbelieve  the  Richmond  story? " 


238          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Entirely.  What  seems  more  than  probable 
is  that  Harry  gave  his  man  the  afternoon  off  be- 
cause he  wished  to  entertain  somebody  clandes- 
tinely at  his  rooms — a  woman,  perhaps.  Yet, 
as  far  as  I've  been  able  to  discover,  no  one  in 
Half  Moon  Street  saw  any  stranger  of  either 
sex  go  to  his  chambers  that  afternoon." 

c  You  said  that  you  believed  the  motive  of 
the  crime — if  crime  it  really  was — was  jealousy," 
remarked  Fetherston,  thoughtfully  rubbing  his 
shaven  chin. 

"  And  I  certainly  do.  Harry  was  essentially 
a  lady's  man.  He  was  tall,  and  an  extremely 
handsome  fellow,  a  thorough-going  sportsman, 
an  excellent  polo  player,  a  perfect  dancer,  and  a 
splendid  rider  to  hounds.  Little  wonder  was  it 
that  he  was  about  to  make  a  very  fine  match,  for 
only  a  month  before  his  death  he  confided  to  me 
in  secret  the  fact — a  fact  known  to  me  alone— 
that  he  was  engaged  to  pretty  little  Lady 
Blanche  Herbert,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Earl 
of  Warsborough." 

"  Engaged  to  Lady  Blanche ! "  echoed  the 
novelist  in  surprise,  for  the  girl  in  question  was 
the  prettiest  of  that  year's  debutantes  as  well  as 
a  great  heiress  in  her  own  right. 

'  Yes.  Harry  was  a  lucky  dog,  poor  fellow. 
The  engagement,  known  only  to  the  Warsbor- 


The  Silence  of  the  Man  Barker  239 

oughs  and  myself,  was  to  have  been  kept  secret 
for  a  year.  Now,  it  is  my  firm  opinion,  Fether- 
ston,  that  some  other  woman,  one  of  Harry's 
many  female  friends,  had  got  wind  of  it,  and 
very  cleverly  had  her  revenge." 

"  Upon  what  grounds  do  you  suspect  that? " 
asked  the  other  eagerly — for  surely  the  prob- 
lem was  becoming  more  inscrutable  than  any  of 
those  in  the  remarkable  romances  which  he 
penned. 

'  Well,  my  conclusions  are  drawn  from  sev- 
eral very  startling  facts — facts  which,  of  course, 
have  never  leaked  out  to  the  public.  But  before 
I  reveal  them  to  you  I'd  like  to  hear  what  opin- 
ion you've  formed  yourself." 

"  I'm  convinced  that  Harry  Bellairs  met  with 
foul  play,  and  I'm  equally  certain  that  the  man 
Barker  lied  in  his  depositions  before  the  coroner. 
He  knows  the  whole  story,  and  has  been  paid 
to  keep  a  still  tongue." 

'  There  I  entirely  agree  with  you,"  Trendall 
declared  quickly;  while  at  that  moment  the  sec- 
retary returned  with  a  slip  of  paper  attached 
to  the  query  which  his  chief  had  written. 
"  Ah !  "  he  exclaimed,  glancing  at  the  paper,  "  I 
see  that  the  fellow  Barker,  who  was  a  chauffeur 
before  he  entered  Harry's  service,  has  set  up  a 
motor-car  business  in  Southampton." 


240          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

'  You  believe  him  to  have  been  an  accessory, 
eh?" 

'  Yes,  a  dupe  in  the  hands  of  a  clever 
woman." 

"Of  what  woman?"  asked  Walter,  holding 
his  breath. 

"  As  you  know,  Harry  was  secretary  to  your 
friend  Elcombe.  Well,  I  happen  to  know  that 
his  pretty  stepdaughter,  Enid  Orlebar,  was  over 
head  and  ears  in  love  with  him.  My  daughter 
Ethel  and  she  are  friends,  and  she  confided  this 
fact  to  Ethel  only  a  month  before  the  tragedy." 

'  Then  you  actually  suggest  that  a — a  cer- 
tain woman  murdered  him  ?  "  gasped  Fetherston. 

'*  Well — there  is  no  actual  proof — only 
strong  suspicion! " 

Walter  Fetherston  held  his  breath.  Did  the 
suspicions  of  this  man,  from  whom  no  secret 
was  safe,  run  in  the  same  direction  as  his  own? 

'  There  was  in  the  evidence  given  before 
the  coroner  a  suggestion  that  the  captain  had 
dined  somewhere  in  secret,"  he  said. 

"  I  know.  But  we  have  since  cleared  up  that 
point.  He  was  not  given  poison  while  he  sat  at 
dinner,  for  we  know  that  he  dined  at  the  Bache- 
lors' with  a  man  named  Friend.  They  had  a 
hurried  meal,  because  Friend  had  to  catch  a 
train  to  the  west  of  England." 


The  Silence  of  the  Man  Barker  241 

"And  afterwards?" 

"  He  left  the  club  in  a  taxi  at  eight.  But 
what  his  movements  exactly  were  we  cannot  as- 
certain. He  returned  to  his  chambers  at  a  quar-; 
ter  past  nine  in  order  to  change  his  clothes  and 
go  back  to  Salisbury,  but  he  was  almost  immedi- 
ately taken  ill.  Barker  declares  that  his  master 
sent  him  out  on  an  errand  instantly  on  his  return, 
and  that  when  he  came  in  he  found  him  dying." 

"  Did  he  not  explain  what  the  errand  was? " 

"  No;  he  refused  to  say." 

In  that  refusal  Fetherston  saw  that  the  valet, 
whatever  might  be  his  fault,  was  loyal  to  his 
dead  master  and  to  Enid  Orlebar.  He  had  not 
told  how  Bellairs  had  sent  to  Hill  Street  that 
scribbled  note,  and  how  the  distressed  girl  had 
torn  along  to  Half  Moon  Street  to  arrive  too 
late  to  speak  for  the  last  time  with  the  man  she 
loved.  Was  Barker  an  enemy,  or  was  he  a 
friend? 

;<  That  refusal  arouses  distinct  suspicion, 
eh?" 

"  Barker  has  very  cleverly  concealed  some 
important  fact,"  replied  the  keen-faced  man  who 
controlled  that  section  of  Scotland  Yard. 
"  Bellairs,  feeling  deadly  ill,  and  knowing  that 
he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  some  enemy,  sent 
Barker  out  for  somebody  in  whom  to  confide. 


242          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

The  man  claimed  that  the  errand  that  his  master 
sent  him  upon  was  one  of  confidence." 

"  And  to  whom  do  you  think  he  was  sent? " 
'  To  a  woman,"  was  TrendalTs  slow  and 
serious  reply.  '*  To  the  woman  who  murdered 
him!" 

"  But  if  she  had  poisoned  him,  surely  he 
would  not  send  for  her?  "  exclaimed  Fetherston. 

"  At  the  moment  he  was  not  aware  of  the 
woman's  jealousy,  or  of  the  subtle  means  used 
to  cause  his  untimely  end.  He  was  unsuspicious 
of  that  cruel,  deadly  hatred  lying  so  deep  in 
the  woman's  breast.  Lady  Blanche,  on  hear- 
ing of  the  death  of  her  lover,  was  terribly 
grieved,  and  is  still  abroad.  She,  of  course,  made 
all  sorts  of  wild  allegations,  but  in  none  of  them 
did  we  find  any  basis  of  fact.  Yet,  curiously 
enough,  her  views  were  exactly  the  same  as  my 
own — that  one  of  poor  Harry's  lady  friends  had 
been  responsible  for  his  fatal  seizure." 

'  Then,  after  all  the  inquiries  you  insti- 
tuted, you  were  really  unable  to  point  to  the 
actual  assassin?  "  asked  Fetherston  rather  more 
calmly. 

"  Not  exactly  unable — unwilling,  rather." 

"  How  do  you  mean  unwilling?  You  were 
Bellairs'  friend!" 

"  Yes,  I  was.    He  was  one  of  the  best  and 


The  Silence  of  the  Man  Barker  243 

most  noble  fellows  who  ever  wore  the  King's 
uniform,  and  he  died  by  the  treacherous  hand 
of  a  jealous  woman — a  clever  woman  who  had 
paid  Barker  to  maintain  silence." 

"  But,  if  the  dying  man  wished  to  make  a 
statement,  he  surely  would  not  have  sent  for  the 
very  person  by  whose  hand  he  had  fallen," 
Fetherston  protested.  "  Surely  that  is  not  a 
logical  conclusion! " 

"  Bellairs  was  not  certain  that  his  sudden 
seizure  was  not  due  to  something  he  had  eaten 
at  the  club — remember  he  was  not  certain  that 
her  hand  had  administered  the  fatal  drug,"  re- 
plied Trendall.  A  hard,  serious  expression 
rested  upon  his  face.  "  He  had,  no  doubt,  seen 
her  between  the  moment  when  he  left  the  Bache- 
lors' and  his  arrival,  a  little  over  an  hour  after- 
wards, at  Half  Moon  Street — where,  or  how, 
we  know  not.  Perhaps  he  drove  to  her  house, 
and  there,  at  her  invitation,  drank  something. 
Yet,  however  it  happened,  the  result  was  the 
same;  she  killed  him,  even  though  she  was  the 
first  friend  to  whom  he  sent  in  his  distress — 
killed  him  because  she  had  somehow  learnt  of 
his  secret  engagement  to  Lady  Blanche  Her- 
bert." 

"  Yours  is  certainly  a  remarkable  theory," 
admitted  Walter  Fetherston.  "May  I  ask  the 


244          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

name    of   the    woman    to    whom   you    refer?" 

"  Yes ;  she  was  the  woman  who  loved  him  so 
passionately,"  replied  Trendall — "  Enid  Or- 
lebar." 

"  Then  you  really  suspect  her?  "  asked  Feth- 
erston  breathlessly. 

"  Only  as  far  as  certain  facts  are  concerned; 
and  that  since  Harry's  death  she  has  been  un- 
ceasingly interested  in  the  career  of  the  man 
Barker." 

"Are  you  quite  certain  of  this?"  gasped 
Fetherston. 

"Quite;  it  is  proved  beyond  the  shadow  of 
a  doubt." 

"  Then  Enid  Orlebar  killed  him?  " 

!C  That  if  she  actually  did  not  kill  him  with 
her  own  hand,  she  at  least  knew  well  who  did," 
was  the  other's  cold,  hard  reply.  "  She  killed 
him  for  two  reasons;  first,  because  by  poor 
Harry's  death  she  prevented  the  exposure  of 
some  great  secret!  " 

Walter  Fetherston  made  no  reply. 

Those  inquiries,  instituted  by  Scotland 
Yard,  had  resulted  in  exactly  the  same  theory 
as  his  own  independent  efforts — that  Harry  Bel- 
lairs  had  been  secretly  done  to  death  by  the 
woman,  who,  upon  her  own  admission  to  him, 
had  been  summoned  to  the  young  officer's  side. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHAT    THE    DEAD    MAN    UEFT 

IT  was  news  to  Fetherston  that  Bellairs  had 
dined  at  his  club  on  that  fateful  night. 

He  had  believed  that  Enid  had  dined  with 
him.  He  had  proved  beyond  all  doubt  that  she 
had  been  to  his  rooms  that  afternoon  during 
Barker's  absence.  That  feather  from  the  boa, 
and  the  perfume,  were  sufficient  evidence  of  her 
visit. 

Yet  why  had  Barker  remained  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Piccadilly  Circus  if  sent  by  his  mas- 
ter with  a  message  to  Richmond?  He  could  not 
doubt  a  single  word  that  Trendall  had  told  him, 
for  the  latter's  information  was  beyond  question. 
Well  he  knew  with  what  care  and  cunning  such 
an  inquiry  would  have  been  made,  and  how  every 
point  would  have  been  proved  before  being  re- 
ported to  that  ever  active  man  who  was  head 
of  that  Department  of  the  Home  Office  that 
never  sleeps. 

"What  secret  do  you  suggest  might  have 
been  divulged?"  he  asked  at  last  after  a  long 
pause. 

245 


246          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

The  big  room — the  Room  of  Secrets — was 
silent,  for  the  double  windows  prevented  the 
noise  of  the  traffic  and  the  "  honk  "  of  the  taxi 
horns  from  penetrating  there.  Only  the  low 
ticking  of  the  clock  broke  the  quiet. 

"  I  scarcely  have  any  suggestion  to  offer  in 
that  direction,"  was  Trendall's  slow  reply. 
'  That  feature  of  the  affair  still  remains  a 
mystery." 

"  But  cannot  this  man  Barker  be  induced 
to  make  some  statement  ?  "  he  queried. 

"  He  will  scarcely  betray  the  woman  to  whom 
he  owes  his  present  prosperity,  for  he  is  pros- 
perous and  has  a  snug  little  balance  at  his  bank. 
Besides,  even  though  we  took  the  matter  in  hand, 
what  could  we  do?  There  is  no  evidence  against 
him  or  against  the  woman.  The  farcical  pro- 
ceedings in  the  coroner's  court  had  tied  their 
hands." 

"  An  open  verdict  was  returned?  " 

'  Yes,  at  our  suggestion.  But  Professors 
Dale  and  Boyd  failed  to  find  any  traces  of 
poison  or  of  foul  play." 

"  And  yet  there  was  foul  play — that  is  abso- 
lutely certain!"  declared  the  novelist. 

"  Unfortunately,  yes.  Poor  Bellairs  was  a 
brilliant  and  promising  officer,  a  man  destined 
to  make  a  distinct  mark  in  the  world.  It  was 


What  the  Dead  Man  Left       247 

»  pity,  perhaps,  that  he  was  such  a  lady-killer." 
"  A  pity  that  he  fell  victim  to  what  was  evi- 
dently a  clever  plot,  and  yet — yet — I  cannot 
bring  myself  to  believe  that  your  surmise  can 
be  actually  correct.  He  surely  would  never  have 
sent  for  the  very  person  who  was  his  enemy  and 
who  had  plotted  to  kill  him — it  doesn't  seem 
feasible,  does  it?" 

"  Quite  as  feasible  as  any  of  the  strange  and 
crooked  circumstances  which  one  finds  every  day 
in  life's  undercurrents,"  was  the  quiet  rejoinder. 
"  Remember,  he  was  very  fond  of  her — fasci- 
nated by  her  remarkable  beauty." 

"But  he  was  engaged  to  Lady  Blanche?" 
"  He  intended  to  marry  her,  probably  for 
wealth  and  position.  The  woman  a  man  of 
Harry's  stamp  marries  is  seldom,  if  ever,  the 
woman  he  loves,"  added  the  chief  with  a  some- 
what cynical  smile,  for  he  was  essentially  a  man 
of  the  world. 

"  But  what  secret  could  Enid  Orlebar  desire 
to  hide?"  exclaimed  Fetherston  wonderingly. 
"  If  he  loved  her,  he  certainly  would  never  have 
threatened  exposure." 

"  My  dear  fellow,  I've  told  you  briefly  my 
own  theory — a  theory  formed  upon  all  the  evi- 
dence I  could  collect,"  replied  the  tall,  dark- 
eyed  man,  as  he  thrust  his  hands  deeply  into  his 


248          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

trousers  pockets  and  looked  straight  into  the 
eyes  of  his  friend. 

"  If  you  are  so  certain  that  Enid  Orlebar  is 
implicated  in  the  affair,  if  not  the  actual  assassin, 
why  don't  you  interrogate  her?"  asked  Walter 
boldly. 

'  Well — well,  to  tell  the  truth,  our  inquiries 
are  not  yet  complete.  When  they  are,  we  may 
be  in  a  better  position — we  probably  shall  be — 
to  put  to  her  certain  pointed  questions.  But," 
he  added  quickly,  "  perhaps  I  ought  not  to  say 
this,  for  I  know  she  is  a  friend  of  yours." 

'  What  you  tell  me  is  in  confidence,  as  al- 
ways, Trendall,"  he  replied  quickly.  "  I  knew 
long  ago  that  Enid  was  deeply  attached  to  Bel- 
lairs.  But  much  that  you  have  just  told  me  is 
entirely  fresh  to  me.  I  must  find  Barker  and 
question  him." 

"  I  don't  think  I'd  do  that.  Wait  until  we 
have  completed  our  inquiries,"  urged  the  other. 
"  If  Bellairs  was  killed  in  so  secret  and  scientific 
a  manner  that  no  trace  was  left,  he  was  killed 
with  a  cunning  and  craftiness  which  betrays  a 
jealous  woman  rather  than  a  man.  Besides, 
there  are  other  facts  we  have  gathered  which 
go  further  to  prove  that  Enid  Orlebar  is  the 
actual  culprit." 

"  What  are  they?    Tell  me,  Trendall." 


What  the  Dead  Man  Left       249 

"  No,  my  dear  chap ;  you  are  the  lady's  friend 
— it  is  really  unfair  to  ask  me,"  he  protested. 
*  Where  the  usual  mysteries  are  concerned,  I'm 
always  open  and  above-board  with  you.  But  in 
private  investigations  like  this  you  must  allow 
me  to  retain  certain  knowledge  to  myself." 

"  But  I  beg  of  you  to  tell  me  everything," 
demanded  the  other.  "  I  have  taken  an  intense 
interest  in  the  matter,  as  you  have,  even  though 
my  motive  has  been  of  an  entirely  different 
character." 

'  You  have  no  suspicion  that  Bellairs  was  in 
possession  of  any  great  secret — a  secret  which  it 
was  to  Miss  Orlebar's  advantage  should  be 
kept?" 

"  No,"  was  the  novelist's  prompt  response. 
"  But  I  can't  see  the  drift  of  your  question," 
he  added. 

"  Well,"  replied  the  keen,  alert  man,  who, 
again  seated  in  his  writing-chair,  bent  slightly 
towards  his  visitor,  "  well,  as  you've  asked  me 
to  reveal  all  I  know,  Fetherston,  I  will  do  so, 
even  though  I  feel  some  reluctance,  in  face  of  the 
fact  that  Miss  Orlebar  is  your  friend." 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  declared  the 
other  firmly.  "  I  am  anxious  to  clear  up  the 
mystery  of  Bellairs'  death." 

"  Then  I  think  that  you  need  seek  no  farther 


250          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

for  the  correct  solution,"  replied  Trendall 
quietly,  looking  into  the  other's  pale  coun- 
tenance. '  Your  lady  friend  killed  him — in  or- 
der to  preserve  her  own  secret." 

"But  what  was  her  secret?  " 
'  We  have  that  yet  to  establish.      It  must 
have  been  a  serious  one  for  her  to  close  his  lips 
in  such  a  manner." 

"  But  they  were  good  friends/*  declared 
Fetherston.  "  He  surely  had  not  threatened  to 
expose  her?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  he  had.  My  own  belief  is 
that  she  became  madly  jealous  of  Lady  Blanche, 
and  at  the  same  time,  fearing  the  exposure  of 
her  secret  to  the  woman  to  whom  her  lover  had 
become  engaged,  she  took  the  subtle  means  of 

silencing  him.     Besides "     And  he  paused 

without  concluding  his  sentence. 

"Besides  what?" 

"  From  the  first  you  suspected  Sir  Hugh's 
stepdaughter,  eh?" 

Fetherston  hesitated.  Then  afterwards  he 
nodded  slowly  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Yes,"  went  on  Trendall,  "  I  knew  all  along 
that  you  were  suspicious.  You  made  a  certain 
remarkable  discovery,  eh,  Fetherston?  " 

The  novelist  started.  At  what  did  his  friend 
hint?  Was  it  possible  that  the  inquiries  had  led 


What  the  Dead  Man  Left       251 

to  a  suspicion  of  Sir  Hugh's  criminal  conduct? 
The  very  thought  appalled  him. 

"  I — well,  in  the  course  of  the  inquiries  I 
made  I  found  that  the  lady  in  question  was 
greatly  attached  to  the  dead  man,"  replied  Feth- 
erston  rather  lamely. 

Trendall  smiled.  "  It  was  to  Enid  Orlebar 
that  Harry  sent  when  he  felt  his  fatal  seizure. 
Instead  of  sending  for  a  doctor,  he  sent  Barker 
to  her,  and  she  at  once  flew  to  his  side,  but,  alas ! 
too  late  to  remedy  the  harm  she  had  already 
caused.  When  she  arrived  he  was  dead !  " 

Fetherston  was  silent.  He  saw  that  the  in- 
quiries made  by  the  Criminal  Investigation  De- 
partment had  led  to  exactly  the  same  conclusion 
that  he  himself  had  formed. 

"This  is  a  most  distressing  thought — that 
Enid  Orlebar  is  a  murderess !  "  he  declared  after 
a  moment's  pause. 

"  It  is — I  admit.  Yet  we  cannot  close  our 
eyes  to  such  outstanding  facts,  my  dear  chap. 
Depend  upon  it  that  there  is  something  behind 
the  poor  fellow's  death  of  which  we  have  no 
knowledge.  In  his  death  your  friend  Miss  Orle- 
bar sought  safety.  The  letter  he  wrote  to  her 
a  week  before  his  assassination  is  sufficient  evi- 
dence of  that." 


252          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  A  letter!  "  gasped  Fetherston.  "  Is  there 
one  in  existence?" 

'  Yes ;  it  is  in  our  possession ;  it  reveals  the 
existence  of  the  secret." 

"But  what  was  its  nature?"  cried  Fether- 
ston in  dismay.  'What  terrible  secret  could 
there  possibly  be  that  could  only  be  preserved 
by  Bellairs'  silence?" 

'  That's  just  the  puzzle  we  have  to  solve — 
just  the  very  point  which  has  mystified  us  all 
along." 

And  then  he  turned  to  his  correspondence 
again,  opening  his  letters  one  after  the  other- 
letters  which,  addressed  to  a  box  at  the  General 
Post  Office  in  the  City,  contained  secret  infor- 
mation from  various  unsuspected  quarters  at 
home  and  abroad. 

Suddenly,  in  order  to  change  the  topic  of 
conversation,  which  he  knew  was  painful  to  Wal- 
ter Fetherston,  he  mentioned  the  excellence  of 
the  opera  at  Covent  Garden  on  the  previous 
night.  And  afterwards  he  referred  to  an  article 
in  that  day's  paper  which  dealt  with  the  idea  of 
obtaining  exclusive  political  intelligence  through 
spirit-bureaux.  Then,  speaking  of  the  labour 
unrest,  Trendall  pronounced  his  opinion  as  fol- 
lows: 

"  The   whole   situation   would  be   ludicrous 


What  the  Dead  Man  Left       253 

were  it  not  urged  so  persistently  as  to  be  a 
menace  not  so  much  in  this  country,  where  we 
know  too  well  the  temperaments  of  its  sponsors, 
but  abroad,  where  public  opinion,  imperfectly 
instructed,  may  imagine  it  represents  a  serious 
national  feeling.  The  continuance  of  it  is  an 
intolerable  negation  of  civilisation;  it  is  sup- 
ported by  no  public  men  of  credit;  it- has  been 
disproved  again  and  again.  Ridicule  may  be  left 
to  give  the  menace  the  coup  de  grace!  And 
this,"  he  laughed,  "  in  face  of  what  you  and  I 
know,  eh  ?  Ah !  how  long  will  the  British  public 
be  lulled  to  sleep  by  anonymous  scribblers? " 

"  One  day  they'll  have  a  rude  awakening," 
declared  Fetherston,  still  thinking,  however,  of 
that  letter  of  the  dead  man  to  Enid.  "  I  won- 
der," he  added,  "  I  wonder  who  inspires  these 
denials?  We  know,  of  course,  that  each  time 
anything  against  enemy  interests  appears  in  a 
certain  section  of  the  Press  there  arises  a  ready 
army  of  letter-writers  who  rush  into  print  and 
append  their  names  to  assurances  that  the  enemy 
is  nowadays  our  best  friend.  Those  *  patriotic 
Englishmen '  are,  many  of  them,  in  high  posi- 
tions. 

"  When  responsible  papers  wilfully  mislead 
the  public,  what  can  be  expected?  "  Walter  went 
on.  "  But,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  "  we  did  not 


254          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

arrive  at  any  definite  conclusion  regarding  the 
tragic  death  of  Bellairs.  What  about  that  let- 
ter of  his?  " 

Trendall  was  thoughtful  for  a  few  minutes. 

"  My  conclusion — the  only  one  that  can  be 
formed,"  he  answered  at  last,  disregarding  his 
friend's  question — "  is  that  Enid  Orlebar  is  the 
guilty  person;  and  before  long  I  hope  to  be  in 
possession  of  that  secret  which  she  strove  by  her 
crime  to  suppress — a  secret  which  I  feel  con- 
vinced we  shall  discover  to  be  one  of  an  amazing 
character." 

Walter  stood  motionless  as  a  statue. 

Surely  Bellairs  had  not  died  by  Enid's  hand! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

AT  THE  CAFE  DE  PARIS 

IT  was  in  the  early  days  of  January — damp  and 

foggy  in  England. 

Walter  Fetherston  sat  idling  on  the  terrasse 

of  the  Cafe  de  Paris  in  Monte  Carlo  sipping  a 

"  mazagran,"  basking  in  the  afternoon  sunshine, 

and  listening  to  the  music  of  the  Rumanian 

Orchestra. 

Around  him  everywhere  was  the  gay  cos- 
mopolitan world  of  the  tables — that  giddy  little 
after-the-war  financier  and  profiteer  world  which 
amuses  itself  on  the  Cote  d'Azur,  and  in  which 
he  was  such  a  well-known  figure. 

So  many  successive  seasons  had  he  passed 
there  before  1914  that  across  at  the  rooms  the 
attendants  and  croupiers  knew  him  as  an  habi- 
tue, and  he  was  always  granted  the  carte  blanche 

—the  white  card  of  the  professional  gambler. 
With  nearly  half  the  people  he  met  he  had  a 
nodding  acquaintance,  for  friendships  are 
easily  formed  over  the  tapis  vert — and  as  easily 
dropped. 

Preferring  the  fresher  air  of  Nice,  he  made 

255 


256          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

his  headquarters  at  the  Hotel  Royal  on  the 
world-famed  promenade,  and  came  over  to 
"  Monte  "  daily  by  the  rapide. 

Much  had  occurred  since  that  autumn  morn- 
ing when  he  had  stood  with  Herbert  Trendall 
in  the  big  room  at  New  Scotland  Yard,  much 
that  had  puzzled  him,  much  that  had  held  him 
in  fear  lest  the  ghastly  truth  concerning  Sir 
Hugh  should  be  revealed. 

His  own  activity  had  been,  perhaps,  un- 
paralleled. The  strain  of  such  constant  travel 
and  continual  excitement  would  have  broken 
most  men ;  but  he  possessed  an  iron  constitution, 
and  though  he  spent  weeks  on  end  in  trains  and 
steamboats,  it  never  affected  him  in  the  least. 
He  could  snatch  sleep  at  any  time,  and  he  could 
write  anywhere. 

Whether  or  not  Enid  had  guessed  the  rea- 
son of  his  urgent  appeal  to  her  not  to  pass 
through  France,  she  had  nevertheless  managed 
to  excuse  herself;  but  a  week  after  Mrs.  Cald- 
well's  departure  she  had  travelled  alone  by  the 
Harwich- Antwerp  route,  evidently  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  the  alert  doctor  of  Pimlico. 

Walter  had  impressed  upon  her  the  desir- 
ability of  not  entering  France — without,  how- 
ever, giving  any  plain  reason.  He  left  her  to 
guess. 


At  the  Cafe  de  Paris  257 

Through  secret  sources  in  Paris  he  had  learnt 
how  poor  Paul  Le  Pontois  was  still  awaiting 
trial.  In  order  not  to  excite  public  opinion,  the 
matter  was  being  kept  secret  by  the  French 
authorities,  and  it  had  been  decided  that  the  in- 
quiry should  be  held  with  closed  doors. 

A  week  after  his  arrest  the  French  police 
received  additional  evidence  against  him  in  the 
form  of  a  cryptic  telegram  addressed  to  the  Cha- 
teau, an  infamous  and  easily  deciphered  mes- 
sage which,  no  doubt,  had  been  sent  with  the 
distinct  purpose  of  strengthening  the  amazing 
charge  against  him.  He  protested  entire  ig- 
norance of  the  sender  and  of  the  meaning  of  the 
message,  but  his  accusers  would  not  accept  any 
disclaimer.  So  cleverly,  indeed,  had  the  mes- 
sage been  worded  that  at  the  Surete  it  was  be- 
lieved to  refer  to  the  price  he  had  received  for 
certain  bundles  of  spurious  notes. 

Without  a  doubt  the  scandalous  telegram 
had  been  sent  at  Weirmarsh's  instigation  by  one 
of  his  friends  in  order  to  influence  the  authori- 
ties in  Paris. 

So  far  as  the  doctor  was  concerned  he  was 
ever  active  in  receiving  reports  from  his  cosmo- 
politan friends  abroad.  But  since  his  quarrel 
with  Sir  Hugh  he  had  ceased  to  visit  Hill 


258          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Street,  and  had,  apparently,  dropped  the  old 
general's  acquaintance. 

Sir  Hugh  was  congratulating  himself  at  the 
easy  solution  of  the  difficulty,  but  Walter,  seat- 
ed at  that  little  marble-topped  table  in  the  win- 
ter sunshine,  knowing  Weirmarsh's  character, 
remained  in  daily  apprehension. 

The  exciting  life  he  led  in  assisting  to  watch 
those  whom  Scotland  Yard  suspected  was  as 
nothing  compared  with  the  constant  fear  of  the 
unmasking  of  Sir  Hugh  Elcombe.  Doctor 
Weirmarsh  was  an  enemy,  and  a  formidable  one. 

The  mystery  concerning  the  death  of  Bel- 
lairs  had  increased  rather  than  diminished.  Each 
step  he  had  taken  in  the  inquiry  only  plunged 
him  deeper  and  deeper  into  an  inscrutable  prob- 
lem. He  had  devoted  weeks  to  endeavouring  to 
solve  the  mystery,  but  it  remained,  alas!  inscru- 
table. 

Enid  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  had  altered  their 
plans,  and  had  gone  to  Sicily  instead  of  to 
Egypt,  first  visiting  Palermo  and  Syracuse,  and 
were  at  the  moment  staying  at  the  popular  "San 
Domenico"  at  Taormina,  amid  that  gem  of 
Mediterranean  scenery.  Sir  Hugh  and  his  wife, 
much  upset  by  Blanche's  sudden  arrival  in  Lon- 
don, had  not  gone  abroad  that  winter,  but  had 


At  the  Cafe  de  Paris  259 

remained  at  Hill  Street  to  comfort  Paul's  wife 
and  child. 

As  for  Walter,  he  had  of  late  been  wander- 
ing far  afiejd,  in  Petrograd,  Geneva,  Rome, 
Florence,  Malaga,  and  for  the  past  week  had 
been  at  Monte  Carlo.  He  was  not  there  wholly 
for  pleasure,  for,  if  the  truth  be  told,  there  were 
seated  at  the  farther  end  of  the  terrasse  a  smart- 
ly dressed  man  and  a  woman  in  whom  he  had 
for  the  past  month  been  taking  a  very  keen  in- 
terest. 

This  pair,  of  Swiss  nationality,  he  had 
watched  in  half  a  dozen  Continental  cities,  grad- 
ually establishing  his  suspicions  as  to  their  real 
occupation. 

They  had  come  to  Monte  Carlo  for  neither 
health  nor  pleasure,  but  in  order  to  meet  a  grey- 
haired  man  in  spectacles,  whom  they  received 
twice  in  private  at  the  Metropole,  where  they 
were  staying. 

The  Englishman  had  first  seen  them  sitting 
together  one  evening  at  one  of  the  marble- 
topped  tables  at  the  Cafe  Royal  in  Regent 
Street,  while  he  had  been  idly  playing  a  game  of 
dominoes  at  the  next  table  with  an  American 
friend.  The  face  of  the  man  was  to  him  some- 
how familiar.  He  felt  that  he  had  seen  it  some- 
where, but  whether  in  a  photograph  in  his  big 


260          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

album  down  at  Idsworth  or  in  the  flesh  he  could 
not  decide. 

Yet  from  that  moment  he  had  hardly  lost 
sight  of  them.  With  that  astuteness  which  was 
Fetherston's  chief  characteristic,  he  had  watched 
vigilantly  and  ,patiently,  establishing  the  fact 
that  the  pair  were  in  England  for  some  sinister 
purpose.  His  powers  were  little  short  of  mar- 
vellous. He  really  seemed,  as  Trendall  once 
put  it,  to  scent  the  presence  of  criminals  as  pigs 
scent  truffles. 

They  suddenly  left  the  Midland  Hotel  at  St. 
Pancras,  where  they  were  staying,  and  crossed 
the  Channel.  But  the  same  boat  carried  Wal- 
ter Fetherston,  who  took  infinite  care  not  to  ob- 
trude himself  upon  their  attention. 

Monte  Carlo,  being  in  the  principality  of 
Monaco,  and  being  peopled  by  the  most  cosmo- 
politan crowd  in  the  whole  world,  is  in  winter 
the  recognised  meeting-place  of  chevaliers  d'in- 
dustrie  and  those  who  finance  and  control  great 
crimes. 

In  the  big  atrium  of  those  stifling  rooms 
many  an  assassin  has  met  his  hirer,  and  in  many 
of  those  fine  hotels  have  bribes  been  handed  over 
to  those  who  will  do  "  dirty  work."  It  is  the 
European  exchange  of  criminality,  for  both 
sexes  know  it  to  be  a  safe  place  where  they  may 


At  the  Cafe  de  Paris  261 

"accidentally"  meet  the  person  controlling 
them. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  in  every  code  used  by 
the  criminal  plotters  of  every  country  in  Europe 
there  is  a  cryptic  word  which  signifies  a  meet- 
ing at  Monte  Carlo.  For  that  reason  was  Wal- 
ter Fetherston  much  given  to  idling  on  the  sun- 
ny terrasse  of  the  cafe  at  a  point  where  he  could 
see  every  person  who  ascended  or  descended 
that  flight  of  red-carpeted  stairs  which  gives  en- 
trance to  the  rooms. 

The  pair  whom  he  was  engaged  in  watching 
had  been  playing  at  roulette  with  five-franc 
pieces,  and  the  woman  was  now  counting  her 
gains  and  laughing  gaily  with  her  husband  as 
she  slowly  sipped  her  tea  flavoured  with  orange- 
flower  water.  They  were  in  ignorance  of  the 
presence  of  that  lynx-eyed  man  in  grey  flannels 
and  straw  hat  who  smoked  his  cigarette  leisurely 
and  appeared  to  be  so  intensely  bored. 

No  second  glance  at  Fetherston  was  needed 
to  ascertain  that  he  was  a  most  thorough-going 
cosmopolitan.  He  usually  wore  his  pale-grey 
felt  hat  at  a  slight  angle,  and  had  the  air  of  the 
easy-going  adventurer,  debonair  and  unscrupu- 
lous. But  in  his  case  his  appearance  was  not  a 
true  index  to  his  character,  for  in  reality  he  was 
a  steady,  hard-headed,  intelligent  man,  the  very 


262          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

soul  of  honour,  and,  above  all,  a  man  of  intense 
patriotism — an  Englishman  to  the  backbone. 
Still,  he  cultivated  his  easy-going  cosmopolitan- 
ism to  pose  as  a  careless  adventurer. 

Presently  the  pair  rose,  and,  crossing  the 
palm-lined  place,  entered  the  casino ;  while  Wal- 
ter, finishing  his  "mazagran,"  lit  a  fresh  cig- 
arette, and  took  a  turn  along  the  front  of  the  ca- 
sino in  order  to  watch  the  pigeon-shooting. 

The  winter  sun  was  sinking  into  the  tideless 
sea  in  all  its  gold-and-orange  glory  as  he  stood 
leaning  over  the  stone  balustrade  watching  the 
splendid  marksmanship  of  one  of  the  crack  shots 
of  Europe.  He  waited  until  the  contest  had 
ended,  then  he  descended  and  took  the  rapide 
back  to  Nice  for  dinner. 

At  nine  o'clock  he  returned  to  Monte  Carlo, 
and  again  ascended  the  station  lift,  as  was  his 
habit,  for  a  stroll  through  the  rooms  and  a  chat 
and  drink  with  one  or  other  of  his  many  friends. 
He  looked  everywhere  for  the  Swiss  pair  in 
whom  he  was  so  interested,  but  in  vain.  Prob- 
ably they  had  gone  over  to  Nice  to  spend  the 
evening,  he  thought.  But  as  the  night  wore  on 
and  they  did  not  return  by  the  midnight  train — 
the  arrival  of  which  he  watched — he  strolled 
back  to  the  Metropole  and  inquired  for  them  cvt 
the  bureau  of  the  hotel. 


At  the  Cafe  de  Paris  263 

"  M'sieur  and  Madame  Granier  left  by  the 
Mediterranean  express  for  Paris  at  seven-fif- 
teen this  evening,"  replied  the  clerk,  who  knew 
Walter  very  well. 

'  What  address  did  they  leave?"  he  in- 
quired, annoyed  at  the  neat  manner  in  which 
they  had  escaped  his  vigilance. 

'  They  left  no  address,  m'sieur.  They  re- 
ceived a  telegram  just  after  six  o'clock  recalling 
them  to  Paris  immediately.  Fortunately,  there 
was  one  two-berth  compartment  vacant  on  the 
train." 

Walter  turned  away  full  of  chagrin.  He 
had  been  foolish  to  lose  sight  of  them.  His  only 
course  was  to  return  to  Nice,  pack  his  traps, 
and  follow  to  Paris  in  the  ordinary  rapide  at 
eight  o'clock  next  morning.  And  this  was  the 
course  he  pursued. 

But  Paris  is  a  big*  place,  and  though  he 
searched  for  two  whole  weeks,  going  hither  and 
thither  to  all  places  where  the  foreign  visitors 
mostly  congregate,  he  saw  nothing  of  the  in- 
teresting pair.  Therefore,  full  of  disappoint- 
ment, he  crossed  one  afternoon  to  Folkestone, 
and  that  night  again  found  himself  in  his  dingy 
chambers  in  Holies  Street. 

Next  day  he  called  upon  Sir  Hugh,  and 
found  him  in  much  better  spirits.  Lady  El- 


264          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

combe  told  him  that  Enid  had  written  express- 
ing herself  delighted  with  her  season  in  Sicily, 
and  saying  that  both  she  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  were 
very  pleased  that  they  had  adopted  his  sugges- 
tion of  going  there  instead  of  to  overcrowded 
Cairo. 

As  he  sat  with  Sir  Hugh  and  his  wife  in  that 
pretty  drawing-room  he  knew  so  well  the  old 
general  suddenly  said:  "I  suppose,  Fether- 
ston,  you  are  still  taking  as  keen  an  interest  in 
the  latest  mysteries  of  crime — eh?  " 

*  Yes,  Sir  Hugh.  As  you  know,  I've  writ- 
ten a  good  deal  upon  the  subject." 

"  I've  read  a  good  many  of  your  books  and 
articles,  of  course,"  exclaimed  the  old  officer. 
"  Upon  many  points  I  entirely  agree  with  you," 
he  said.  '  There  is  a  curious  case  in  the  papers 
to-day.  Have  you  seen  it?  A  young  girl  found 
mysteriously  shot  dead  near  Hitchin." 

:<  No,  I  haven't,"  was  Walter's  reply.  He 
was  not  at  all  interested.  He  was  thinking  of 
something  of  far  greater  interest. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

WHICH  IS  "  PRIVATE  AND  CONFIDENTIAL  " 

AT  eleven  o'clock  next  morning  Fetherston 
stood  in  Trendall's  room  at  Scotland  Yard  re- 
porting to  him  the  suspicious  movements  of 
Monsieur  and  Madame  Granier. 

His  friend  leaned  back  in  his  padded  chair 
listening  while  the  keen-faced  man  in  pince-nez 
related  all  the  facts,  and  in  doing  so  showed  how 
shrewd  and  astute  he  had  been. 

'  Then  they  are  just  what  we  thought,"  re- 
marked the  chief. 

'  Without  a  doubt.  In  Monte  Carlo  they 
received  further  instructions  from  somebody. 
They  went  to  Paris,  and  there  I  lost  them." 

Trendall  smiled,  for  he  saw  how  annoyed  his 
friend  was  at  their  escape. 

'  Well,  you  certainly  clung  on  to  them,"  he 
said.  '  When  you  first  told  me  your  suspicions 
I  confess  I  was  inclined  to  disagree  with  you. 
You  merely  met  them  casually  in  Regent  Street. 
What  made  you  suspicious?" 

"  One  very  important  incident — Weirmarsh 

265 


266          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

came  in  with  another  man,  and,  in  passing,  nod- 
ded to  Granier.    That  set  me  thinking." 

"  But  you  do  not  know  of  any  actual  deal- 
ings with  the  doctor? " 

"  I  know  of  none,"  replied  Walter.  "  Still, 
I'm  very  sick  that,  after  all  my  pains,  they 
should  have  escaped  to  Paris  so  suddenly." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Trendall.  "  If  they  are 
what  we  suspect  we  shall  pick  them  up  again 
before  long,  no  doubt.  Now  look  here,"  he  add- 
ed. "Read  that!  It's  just  come  in.  As  you 
know,  any  foreigner  who  takes  a  house  in  cer- 
tain districts  nowadays  is  reported  to  us  by  the 
local  police." 

Fetherston  took  the  big  sheet  of  blue  official 

paper  which  the  police  official  handed  to  him, 

'  and  found  that  it  was  the  copy  of  a  confidential 

report  made  by  the  Superintendent  of  Police  at 

Maldon,  in  Essex,  and  read  as  follows: 

"  I,  William  Warden,  Superintendent  of 
Police  for  the  Borough  of  Maldon,  desire  to  re- 
port to  the  Commissioner  of  Metropolitan  Po- 
lice the  following  statement  from  Sergeant  S. 
Deacon,  Essex  Constabulary,  stationed  at 
Southminster,  which  is  as  below: 

'  On  Friday,  the  thirteenth  of  September 
last,  a  gentleman,  evidently  a  foreigner,  was 
sent  by  Messrs.  Hare  and  James,  estate  agents, 


;<  Private  and  Confidential  "       267 

of  Maiden,  to  view  the  house  known  as  The 
Yews,  at  Asheldham,  in  the  vicinity  of  South- 
minster,  and  agreed  to  take  it  for  three  years 
in  order  to  start  a  poultry  farm.  The  tenant  en- 
tered into  possession  a  week  later,  when  one  van- 
load  of  furniture  arrived  from  London.  Two 
days  later  three  other  vanloads  arrived  late  in 
the  evening,  and  were  unpacked  in  the  stable- 
yard  at  dawn.  The  tenant,  whose  name  is  Bai- 
ley— but  whose  letters  come  addressed  "  Baily," 
and  are  mostly  from  Belgium — lived  there  alone 
for  a  fortnight,  and  was  afterwards  joined  by 
a  foreign  man-servant  named  Pietro,  who  is 
believed  to  be  an  Italian.  Though  more  than 
three  months  have  elapsed,  and  I  have  kept  ob- 
servation upon  the  house — a  large  one,  stand- 
ing in  its  own  grounds — I  have  seen  no  sign  of 
poultry  farming,  and  therefore  deem  it  a  matter 
for  a  report. — SAMUEL  DEACON,  Sergeant,  Es- 
sex Constabulary/ ' 

"  Curious !  "  remarked  Walter,  when  he  had 
finished  reading  it. 

"Yes,"  said  Trendall.  "There  may  be 
nothing  in  it." 

"  It  should  be  inquired  into !  "  declared  Wal- 
ter. "  I'll  take  Summers  and  go  down  there  to 
have  a  look  round,  if  you  like." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  the  chief.     "  I'll 


268          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

'phone  Summers  to  meet  you  at  Liverpool 
Street  Station,"  he  added,  turning1  to  the  rail- 
way guide.  "  There's  a  train  at  one  forty-five. 
Will  that  suit  you?" 

*  Yes.  Tell  him  to  meet  me  at  Liverpool 
Street — and  we'll  see  who  this  *  Mr.  Baily '  real- 
ly is." 

When,  shortly  after  half-past  one,  the  nov- 
elist walked  on  to  the  platform  at  Liverpool 
Street  he  was  approached  by  a  narrow-faced, 
middle-aged  man  in  a  blue  serge  suit  who  pre- 
sented the  appearance  of  a  ship's  engineer  on 
leave. 

As  they  sat  together  in  a  first-class  compart- 
ment Fetherston  explained  to  his  friend  the  re- 
port made  by  the  police  officer  at  Southminster 
— the  next  station,  to  Burnham-on- Crouch — 
whereupon  Summers  remarked :  :<  The  doctor 
has  been  down  this  way  once  or  twice  of  late.  I 
wonder  if  he  goes  to  pay  this  Mr.  Baily,  or  Bai- 
ley, a  visit?  " 

"Perhaps,"  laughed  Walter.  "We  shall 
see." 

The  railway  ended  at  Southminster,  but  on 
alighting  they  had  little  difficulty  in  finding  the 
small  police  station,  where  the  local  sergeant  of 
police  awaited  them,  having  been  warned  by 
telephone. 


'  Private  and  Confidential  "       269 

;<  Well,  gentlemen,"  said  the  red-faced  man, 
spreading  his  big  hands  on  his  knees  as  they  sat 
together  in  a  back  room,  "  Mr.  Bailey  ain't  at 
home  just  now.  He's  away  a  lot.  The  house 
is  a  big  one — not  too  big  for  the  four  vanloads 
of  furniture  wot  came  down  from  London." 

"  Has  he  made  any  friends  in  the  district, 
do  you  know?" 

"  No,  not  exactly.  'E  often  goes  and  'as  a 
drink  at  the  Bridgewick  Arms  at  Burnham,  close 
by  the  coastguard  station." 

Walter  exchanged  a  meaning  glance  with 
his  assistant. 

"Does  he  receive  any  visitors?" 

'  Very  few — he's  away  such  a  lot.  A  wom- 
an comes  down  to  see  him  sometimes — his  sis- 
ter, they  say  she  is." 

"  What  kind  of  a  woman?  " 

"  Oh,  she's  a  lady  about  thirty-five — beauti- 
fully dressed  always.  She  generally  comes  in  a 
dark-green  motor-car,  which  she  drives  herself. 
She  was  a  lady  driver  during  the  war." 

"  Do  you  know  her  name?  " 

"  Miss  Bailey.    She's  a  foreigner,  of  course." 

"Any  other  visitors?"  asked  Fetherston,  in 
his  quick,  impetuous  way,  as  he  polished  his 
pince-nez. 

"  One  day,  very  soon  after  Mr.  Bailey  took 


270          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  house,  I  was  on  duty  at  Southminster  Sta- 
tion in  the  forenoon,  and  a  gentleman  and  lady 
arrived  and  asked  how  far  it  was  to  The  Yews, 
at  Asheldham.  I  directed  them  the  way  to  walk 
over  by  Newmoor  and  across  the  brook.  Then 
I  slipped  'ome,  got  into  plain  clothes,  and  went 
along  after  them  by  the  footpath." 

"  Why  did  you  do  that?  "  asked  Summers. 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  find  out  something 
about  this  foreigner's  visitors.  I  read  at  head- 
quarters at  Maldon  the  new  instructions  about 
reporting  all  foreigners  who  took  houses,  and  I 
wanted  to " 

'  To  show  that  you  were  on  the  alert,  eh, 
Deacon?"  laughed  the  novelist  good-humoured- 
ly,  and  he  lit  a  cigarette. 

"  That's  so,  sir,"  replied  the  big,  red-faced 
man.  '  Well,  I  took  a  short  cut  over  to  The 
Yews,  and  got  there  ten  minutes  before  they  did. 
I  hid  in  the  hedge  on  the  north  side  of  the  house, 
and  saw  that  as  soon  as  they  walked  up  the  drive 
Mr.  Bailey  rushed  out  to  welcome  them.  The 
lady  seemed  very  nervous,  I  thought.  I  know 
she  was  an  English  lady,  because  she  spoke  to 
me  at  the  station." 

*  What  were  they  like?  "  inquired  Summers. 
"  Describe  both  of  them." 

"  Well,  the  man,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect, 


*  Private  and  Confidential  "       271 

was  about  fifty  or  so,  grey-faced,  dark-eyed, 
wearin'  a  heavy  overcoat  with  astrachan  collar 
and  cuffs.  He  had  light  grey  suede  gloves,  and 
carried  a  gold-mounted  malacca  cane  with  a 
curved  handle.  The  woman  was  quite  young — 
not  more'n  twenty,  I  should  think — and  very 
good-lookin'.  She  wore  a  neat  tailor-made  dress 
of  brown  cloth,  and  a  small  black  velvet  hat  with 
a  big  gold  buckle.  She  had  a  greyish  fur  around 
her  neck,  with  a  muff  to  match,  and  carried  a 
small,  dark  green  leather  bag." 

Walter  stood  staring  at  the  speaker.  The 
description  was  exactly  that  of  Weirmarsh  and 
Enid  Orlebar.  The  doctor  often  wore  an  as- 
trachan-trimmed  overcoat,  while  both  dress  and 
hat  were  the  same  which  Enid  had  worn  three 
months  ago! 

He  made  a  few  quick  inquiries  of  the  red- 
faced  sergeant,  but  the  man's  replies  only  served 
to  convince  him  that  Enid  had  actually  been  a 
visitor  at  the  mysterious  house. 

"You  did  not  discover  their  names?" 

"  The  young  lady  addressed  her  companion 
as  *  Doctor.'  That's  all  I  know,"  was  the  offi- 
cer's reply.  "  For  that  reason  I  was  rather  in- 
clined to  think  that  I  was  on  the  wrong  scent. 
The  man  was  perhaps,  after  all,  only  a  doctor 
who  had  come  down  to  see  his  patient." 


272          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Perhaps  so,"  remarked  Walter  mechani- 
cally. '  You  say  Mr.  Bailey  is  not  at  home  to- 
day, so  we'll  just  run  over  and  have  a  look 
round.  You'd  better  come  with  us,  sergeant." 
'  Very  well,  sir.  But  I  'ear  as  how  Mr.  Bai- 
ley is  comin'  home  this  evenin'.  I  met  Pietro  in 
the  Railway  Inn  at  Southminster  the  night  be- 
fore last,  and  casually  asked  when  his  master 
was  comin'  home,  as  I  wanted  to  see  'im  for  a 
subscription  for  our  police  concert,  and  'e  told 
me  that  the  signore — that's  what  'e  called  him — 
was  comin'  home  to-night." 

"  Good !  Then,  after  a  look  round  the  place, 
we  hope  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  this  mys- 
terious foreigner  who  comes  here  to  the  Dengie 
Marshes  to  make  a  living  out  of  fowl-keeping." 
And  Walter  smiled  meaningly  at  his  compan- 
ion. 

Ten  minutes  later,  after  the  sergeant  had 
changed  into  plain  clothes,  the  trio  set  out  along 
the  flat,  muddy  road  for  Asheldham. 

But  as  they  were  walking  together,  after 
passing  Northend,  a  curious  thing  happened. 

Summers  started  back  suddenly  and  nudged 
the  novelist's  arm  without  a  word. 

Fetherston,  looking  in  the  direction  indicat- 
ed, halted,  utterly  staggered  by  what  met  his 
gaze. 


'  Private  and  Confidential  "       273 

It  was  inexplicable — incredible!  He  looked 
again,  scarcely  believing  his  own  eyes,  for  what 
he  saw  made  plain  a  ghastly  truth. 

He  stood  rigid,  staring  straight  before  him. 

Was  it  possible  that  at  last  he  was  actually 
within  measurable  distance  of  the  solution  of 
the  mystery? 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  RESULT  OF  INVESTIGATION 

As  the  expectant  trio  had  come  round  the  bend 
in  the  road  they  saw  in  front  of  them,  walking 
alone,  a  young  lady  in  a  short  tweed  suit  with 
hat  to  match. 

The  gown  was  of  a  peculiar  shade  of  grey, 
and  by  her  easy,  swinging  gait  and  the  grace- 
ful carriage  of  her  head  Walter  Fetherston  in- 
stantly recognised  that  there  before  him,  all  un- 
conscious of  his  presence,  was  the  girl  he  be- 
lieved to  be  still  in  Sicily — Enid  Orlebar ! 

He  looked  again,  to  satisfy  himself  that  he 
was  not  mistaken.  Then,  drawing  back,  lest  her 
attention  should  be  attracted  by  their  footsteps, 
he  motioned  to  his  companions  to  retreat  around 
the  bend  and  thus  out  of  her  sight. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  addressing  them,  "  there  is 
some  deep  mystery  here.  That  lady  must  not 
know  we  are  here." 

'  You've  recognised  her,  sir? "  asked  Sum- 
mers, who  had  on  several  previous  occasions  as- 
sisted him. 

274 


The  Result  of  Investigation      275 

'  Yes,"  was  the  novelist's  hard  reply.  "  She 
is  here  with  some  mysterious  object.  You 
mustn't  approach  The  Yews  till  dark." 

"  Mr.  Bailey  will  then  be  at  home,  sir,"  re- 
marked the  sergeant.  "  I  thought  you  wished  to 
explore  the  place  before  he  arrived?" 

Walter  paused.  He  saw  that  Enid  could 
not  be  on  her  way  to  visit  Bailey,  if  he  were  not 
at  home.  So  he  suggested  that  Summers,  whom 
she  did  not  know,  should  go  forward  and  watch 
her  movements,  while  he  and  the  sergeant  should 
proceed  to  the  house  of  suspicion. 

Arranging  to  meet  later,  the  officer  from 
Scotland  Yard  lit  his  pipe  and  strolled  quickly 
forward  around  the  bend  to  follow  the  girl  in 
grey,  while  the  other  two  halted  to  allow  them 
to  get  on  ahead. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  that  lady  down  here 
before,  sergeant? "  asked  Walter  presently. 

"  Yes,  sir.  If  I  don't  make  a  mistake,  it  is 
the  same  lady  who  asked  me  the  way  to  The, 
Yews  soon  after  Mr.  Bailey  took  the  house — the 
lady  who  came  with  the  man  whom  she  addressed 
as  'Doctor'!" 

"  Are  you  quite  certain  of  this?  " 

"  Not  quite  certain.  She  was  dressed  dif- 
ferently, in  brown — with  a  different  hat  and  a 
veil." 


276         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  They  came  only  on  that  one  occasion, 
eh?" 

"  Only  that  once,  sir." 

"  But  why,  I  wonder,  is  she  going  to  The 
Yews?  Pietro,  you  say,  went  up  to  London 
this  morning? " 

'  Yes,  sir,  by  the  nine-five.  And  the  house 
is  locked  up — she's  evidently  unaware  of  that." 

"  No  doubt.  She'll  go  there,  and,  finding 
nobody  at  home,  turn  away  disappointed.  She 
must  not  see  us." 

'  We'll  take  good  care  of  that,  sir,"  laughed 
the  local  sergeant  breezily,  as  he  left  his  com- 
panion's side  and  crossed  the  road  so  that  he 
could  see  the  bend.  "Why!"  he  exclaimed, 
"  she  ain't  goin'  to  Asheldham  after  all!  She's 
taken  the  footpath  to  the  left  that  leads  into 
Steeple!  Evidently  she  knows  the  road!  " 

"  Then  we  are  free  to  go  straight  along  to 
The  Yews,  eh?  She's  making  a  call  in  the  vi- 
cinity. I  wonder  where  she's  going? " 

'  Your  friend  will  ascertain  that,"  said  the 
sergeant.  "  Let's  get  along  to  The  Yews  and 
'ave  a  peep  round." 

Therefore  the  pair,  now  that  Enid  was  suf- 
ficiently far  ahead  along  a  footpath  which  led 
under  a  high,  bare  hedge,  went  forth  again  down 
the  high  road  until,  after  crossing  the  brook, 


The  Result  of  Investigation      277 

they  turned  to  the  right  into  Asheldham  village, 
where,  half-way  between  that  place  and  New 
Hall,  they  turned  up  a  short  by-road,  a  cul-de- 
sac,  at  the  end  of  which  a  big,  old-fashioned,  red- 
brick house  of  the  days  of  Queen  Anne,  half  hid- 
den by  a  belt  of  high  Scotch  firs,  came  into  view. 

Shut  off  from  the  by-road  by  a  high,  time- 
mellowed  brick  wall,  it  stood  back  lonely  and 
secluded  in  about  a  couple  of  acres  of  well  wood- 
ed ground.  From  a  big,  rusty  iron  gate  the  ill- 
kept,  gravelled  drive  took  a  broad  sweep  up 
to  the  front  of  the  house,  a  large,  roomy  one 
with  square,  inartistic  windows  and  plain  front, 
the  ugliness  of  which  the  ivy  strove  to  hide. 

In  the  grey  light  of  that  wintry  afternoon 
the  place  looked  inexpressibly  dismal  and  neg- 
lected. Years  ago  it  had,  no  doubt,  been  the 
residence  of  some  well-to-do  county  family;  but 
in  these  twentieth-century  post-war  days,  hav- 
ing been  empty  for  nearly  ten  years,  it  had  gone 
sadly  to  rack  and  ruin. 

The  lawns  had  become  weedy,  the  carriage- 
drive  was,  in  places,  green  with  moss,  like  the 
sills  of  the  windows  and  the  high-pitched,  tiled 
roof  itself.  In  the  centre  of  the  lawn,  before  the 
house,  stood  four  great  ancient  yews,  while  all 
round  were  high  box  hedges,  now,  alas!  neglect- 
ed, untrimmed  and  full  of  holes. 


278         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

The  curtains  were  of  the  commonest  kind, 
while  the  very  steps  leading  to  the  front  door 
were  grey  with  lichen  and  strewn  with  wisps  of 
straw.  The  whole  aspect  was  one  of  neglect, 
of  decay,  of  mystery. 

The  two  men,  opening  the  creaking  iron  gate, 
advanced  boldly  to  the  door,  an  excuse  ready 
in  case  Pietro  opened  it. 

They  knocked  loudly,  but  there  was  no  re- 
sponse. Their  summons  echoed  through  the  big 
hall,  causing  Walter  to  remark: 

!<  There  can't  be  much  furniture  inside, 
judging  from  the  sound." 

"  Four  motor  vanloads  came  here,"  respond- 
ed the  sergeant.  '  The  first  was  in  a  plain  van." 

'  You  did  not  discover  whence  it  came?  " 

"  I  asked  the  driver  down  at  the  inn  at 
Southminster,  and  he  told  me  that  they  came 
from  the  Trinity  Furnishing  Company,  Peck- 
ham.  But,  on  making  inquiries,  I  found  that 
he  lied;  there  is  no  such  company  in  Peckham." 

'  You  saw  the  furniture  unloaded?  " 

"  I  was  about  here  when  the  first  lot  came, 
When  the  other  three  vans  arrived  I  was  away 
on  my  annual  leave,"  was  the  sergeant's  reply. 

Again  they  knocked,  but  no  one  came  to  the 
door.  A  terrier  approached,  but  he  proved 
friendly,  therefore  they  proceeded  to  make  an 


The  Result  of  Investigation      279 

inspection  of  the  empty  stabling  and  disused 
outbuildings. 

Three  old  hen-coops  were  the  only  signs  of 
poultry-farming  they  could  discover,  and  these, 
placed  in  a  conspicuous  position  in  the  big, 
paved  yard,  were  without  feathered  occupants. 

There  were  three  doors  by  which  the  house 
could  be  entered,  and  all  of  them  Walter  tried 
and  found  locked.  Therefore,  noticing  in  the 
rubbish-heap  some  stray  pieces  of  paper,  he  at 
once  turned  his  attention  to  what  he  discovered 
were  fragments  of  a  torn  letter.  It  was  written 
in  French,  and,  apparently,  had  reference  to 
certain  securities  held  by  the  tenant  of  The 
Yews. 

But  as  only  a  small  portion  of  the  destroyed 
communication  could  be  found,  its  purport  was 
not  very  clear,  and  the  name  and  address  of  the 
writer  could  not  be  ascertained. 

Yet  it  had  already  been  proved  without 
doubt  that  the  mysterious  tenant  of  the  dismal 
old  place — the  man  who  posed  as  a  poultry- 
farmer — had  had  as  visitors  Dr.  Weirmarsh  and 
Enid  Olebar! 

For  a  full  half -hour,  while  the  red-faced  ser- 
geant kept  watch  at  the  gate,  Walter  Fetherston 
continued  to  investigate  that  rubbish-heap, 
which  showed  signs  of  having  been  burning  quite 


280         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

recently,  for  most  of  the  scraps  of  paper  were 
charred  at  their  edges. 

The  sodden  remains  of  many  letters  he  with- 
drew and  tried  to  read,  but  the  scraps  gave  no 
tangible  result,  and  he  was  just  about  to  re- 
linquish his  search  when  his  eye  caught  a  scrap 
of  bright  blue  notepaper  of  a  familiar  hue.  It 
was  half  burned,  and  blurred  by  the  rain,  but  at 
the  corner  he  recognised  some  embossing  in  dark 
blue — familiar  embossing  it  was — of  part  of  the 
address  in  Hill  Street! 

The  paper  was  that  used  habitually  by  Enid 
Orlebar,  and  upon  it  was  a  date,  two  months 
before,  and  the  single  word  "  over  "  in  her  fa- 
miliar handwriting. 

He  took  his  stout  walking-stick,  in  reality  a 
sword-case,  and  frantically  searched  for  other 
scraps,  but  could  find  none.  One  tiny  portion 
only  had  been  preserved  from  the  flames — 
paraffin  having  been  poured  over  the  heap  to 
render  it  the  more  inflammable.  But  that  scrap 
in  itself  was  sufficient  proof  that  Enid  had  writ- 
ten to  the  mysterious  tenant  of  The  Yews. 

;<  Well,"  he  said  at  last,  approaching  the  ser- 
geant, "  do  you  think  the  coast  is  clear  enough?  " 

"For  what?" 

"  To  get  a  glimpse  inside.     There's  a  good 


The  Result  of  Investigation      281 

deal  more  mystery  here  than  we  imagine,  depend 
upon  it!  "  Walter  exclaimed. 

"  Master  and  man  will  return  by  the  same 
train,  I  expect,  unless  they  come  back  in  a  mo- 
tor-car. If  they  come  by  train  they  won't  be 
here  till  well  past  eight,  so  we'll  have  at  least 
three  hours  by  ourselves." 

Walter  Fetherston  glanced  around.  Twi- 
light was  fast  falling. 

"  It'll  be  dark  inside,  but  I've  brought  my 
electric  torch,"  he  said.  "  There's  a  kitchen  win- 
dow with  an  ordinary  latch." 

'  That's  no  use.  There  are  iron  bars,"  de- 
clared the  sergeant.  "  I  examined  it  the  other 
day.  The  small  staircase  window  at  the  side  is 
the  best  means  of  entry."  And  he  took  the  nov- 
elist round  and  showed  him  a  long  narrow  win- 
dow about  five  feet  from  the  ground. 

Walter's  one  thought  was  of  Enid.  Why 
had  she  written  to  that  mysterious  foreigner? 
Why  had  she  visited  there?  Why,  indeed,  was 
she  back  in  England  surreptitiously,  and  in  that 
neighbourhood  ? 

The  short  winter's  afternoon  was  nearly  at 
an  end  as  they  stood  contemplating  the  window 
prior  to  breaking  in — for  Walter  Fetherston  felt 
justified  in  breaking  the  law  in  order  to  examine 
the  interior  of  that  place. 


282         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

In  the  dark  branches  of  the  trees  the  wind 
whistled  mournfully,  and  the  scudding  clouds 
were  precursory  of  rain. 

"  Great  Scott!  "  exclaimed  Walter.  "  This 
isn't  a  particularly  cheerful  abode,  is  it,  ser- 
geant? " 

"  No,  sir,  if  I  lived  'ere  I'd  have  the  blues  in 
a  week,"  laughed  the  man.  "  I  can't  think  'ow 
Mr.  Bailey  employs  'is  time." 

"  Poultry-farming,"  laughed  Fetherston,  as, 
standing  on  tiptoe,  he  examined  the  window- 
latch  by  flashing  on  the  electric  torch. 

"  No  good!  "  he  declared.  "  There's  a  shut- 
ter covered  with  new  sheet-iron  behind." 

"  It  doesn't  show  through  the  curtain,"  ex- 
claimed Deacon. 

"  But  it's  there.  Our  friend  is  evidently 
afraid  of  burglars." 

From  window  to  window  they  passed,  but 
the  mystery  was  considerably  increased  by  the 
discovery  that  at  each  of  those  on  the  ground 
floor  were  iron-faced  shutters,  though  so  placed 
as  not  to  be  noticeable  behind  the  windows, 
which  were  entirely  covered  with  cheap  curtain 
muslin. 

;<  That's  funny! "  exclaimed  the  sergeant. 
"  I've  never  examined  them  with  a  light  before." 

"  They  have  all  been  newly  strengthened,"* 


The  Result  of  Investigation      283 

declared  Fetherston.  "  On  the  other  side  I  ex- 
pect there  are  strips  of  steel  placed  lattice-wise, 
a  favourite  device  of  foreigners.  Mr.  Bailey," 
he  added,  "  evidently  has  no  desire  that  any  in- 
truder should  gain  access  to  his  residence." 

'  What  shall  we  do?"  asked  Deacon,  for  it 
was  now  rapidly  growing  dark. 

A  thought  had  suddenly  occurred  to  Walter 
that  perhaps  Enid's  intention  was  to  make  a  call 
there,  after  all. 

"  Our  only  way  to  obtain  entrance  is,  I  think, 
by  one  of  the  upper  windows,"  replied  the  man 
whose  very  life  was  occupied  by  the  investiga- 
tion of  mysteries.  "  In  the  laundry  I  noticed 
a  ladder.  Let  us  go  and  get  it." 

So  the  ladder,  a  rather  rotten  and  insecure 
one,  was  obtained,  and  after  some  difficulty 
placed  against  the  wall.  It  would  not,  however, 
reach  to  the  windows,  as  first  intended,  there- 
fore Walter  mounted  upon  the  slippery,  moss- 
grown  tiles  of  a  wing  of  the  house,  and  after  a 
few  moments'  exploration  discovered  a  skylight 
which  proved  to  be  over  the  head  of  the  servants' 
staircase. 

This  he  lifted,  and,  fixing  around  a  chimney- 
stack  a  strong  silk  rope  he  had  brought  in  his 
pocket  ready  for  any  emergency,  he  threw  it 


284          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

down  the  opening,  and  quickly  lowered  himself 
through. 

Scarcely  had  he  done  so,  and  was  standing  on 
the  uncarpeted  stairs,  when  his  quick  ear  caught 
the  sound  of  Deacon's  footsteps  receding  over 
the  gravel  around  to  the  front  of  the  house. 

Then,  a  second  later,  he  heard  a  loud  chal- 
lenge from  the  gloom  in  a  man's  voice  that  was 
unfamiliar: 

"Who's  there?" 

There  was  no  reply.  Walter  listened  with 
bated  breath. 

'  What  are  you  doing  there?  "  cried  the  new- 
comer in  a  voice  in  which  was  a  marked  foreign 
accent.  "  Speak!  speak!  or  I'll  shoot! " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


WALTER  did  not  move.  He  realised  that  a  con- 
tretemps had  occurred.  The  ladder  still  lean- 
ing against  the  wall  outside  would  reveal  his  in- 
trusion. Yet,  at  last  inside,  he  intended,  at  all 
hazards,  to  explore  the  place  and  learn  the  rea- 
son why  the  mysterious  stranger  had  started 
that  "  poultry  farm." 

He  was  practically  in  the  dark,  fearing  to 
flash  on  his  torch  lest  he  should  be  discovered. 

Was  it  possible  that  Bailey  or  his  Italian 
manservant  had  unexpectedly  returned! 

Those  breathless  moments  seemed  hours. 

Suddenly  he  heard  a  second  challenge.  The 
challenger  used  a  fierce  Italian  oath,  and  by  it 
he  knew  that  it  was  Pietro. 

In  reply,  a  shot  rang  out — evidently  from 
the  sergeant's  pistol,  followed  by  another  sharp 
report,  and  still  another.  This  action  showed 
the  man  Deacon  to  be  a  shrewd  person,  for  the 
effect  was  exactly  as  he  had  intended.  The 

£85 


286          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Italian  servant  turned  on  his  heel  and  flew  for 
his  life  down  the  drive,  shouting  in  his  native 
tongue  for  help  and  for  the  police. 

"Madonna  santa!"  he  yelled.  'Who  are 
you  here?  "  he  demanded  in  Italian.  "  I'll  go  to 
the  police  1  " 

And  in  terror  he  rushed  off  down  the  road. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  cried  the  sergeant,  after 
the  servant  had  disappeared.  "  I've  given  the 
fellow  a  good  fright.  Be  quick  and  have  a  look 
round,  sir.  You  can  be  out  again  before  he 
raises  the  alarm !  " 

In  an  instant  Walter  flashed  on  his  torch 
and,  dashing  down  the  stairs,  crossed  the  kitchen 
and  found  himself  in  the  hall.  From  room  to 
room  he  rushed,  but  found  only  two  rooms  on 
the  ground  floor  furnished — a  sitting-room, 
which  had  been  the  original  dining-room,  while 
in  the  study  was  a  chair-bed,  most  probably 
where  Pietro  jslept. 

On  the  table  lay  a  heavy  revolver,  fully  load- 
ed, and  this  Fetherston  quickly  transferred  to 
his  jacket  pocket. 

Next  moment  he  dashed  up  the  old  well 
staircase  two  steps  at  a  time  and  entered  room 
after  room.  Only  one  was  furnished — the  ten- 
ant's bedroom.  In  it  he  found  a  number  of 
suits  of  clothes,  while  on  the  dressing-table  lay  a 


The  Secret  of  the  Lonely  House   287 

false  moustache,  evidently  for  disguise.  A  small 
writing-table  was  set  in  the  window,  and  upon 
it  was  strewn  a  quantity  of  papers. 

As  he  flashed  his  torch  round  he  was  amazed 
to  see,  arranged  upon  a  neat  deal  table  in  a  cor- 
ner, some  curious-looking  machinery  which 
looked  something  like  printing-presses.  But 
they  were  a  mystery  to  him. 

The  discovery  was  a  strange  one.  What  it 
meant  he  did  not  then  realise.  There  seemed  to 
be  quite  a  quantity  of  apparatus  and  machinery. 
It  was  this  which  had  been  conveyed  there  in 
those  furniture  vans  of  the  Trinity  Furnishing 
Company. 

He  heard  Deacon's  voice  calling  again. 
Therefore,  having  satisfied  himself  as  to  the  na- 
ture of  the  contents  of  that  neglected  old  house, 
he  ascended  the  stone  steps  into  the  passage 
which  led  through  a  faded  green-baize  door  into 
the  main  hall. 

As  he  entered  he  heard  voices  in  loud  discus- 
sion. Sergeant  Deacon  and  the  servant  Pietro 
had  met  face  to  face. 

The  Italian  had  evidently  aroused  the  vil- 
lagers in  Asheldham,  for  there  were  sounds  of 
many  voices  of  men  out  on  the  gravelled  drive. 

"  I  came  up  here  a  quarter  of  an  hour  ago,'* 
the  Italian  cried  excitedly  in  his  broken  Eng- 


288          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

lish,  "  and  somebody  fired  at  me.    They  tried  to 
kill  me!" 

"  But  who? "  asked  Deacon  in  pretended  ig- 
norance. He  was  uncertain  what  to  do,  Mr. 
Fetherston  being  still  within  the  house  and  the 
ladder,  his  only  means  of  escape,  still  standing 
against  a  side  wall. 

'Thieves!"  cried  the  man,  his  foreign  ac- 
cent more  pronounced  in  his  excitement, 
challenged  them,  and  they  fired  at  me.     I  am 
glad  that  you,  a  police  sergeant,  are  here." 

"  So  am  I,"  cried  Walter  Fetherston,  sud~ 
denly  throwing  open  the  front  door  and  stand- 
ing before  the  knot  of  alarmed  villagers,  though 
it  was  so  dark  that  they  could  not  recognise  who 
he  was.  "  Deacon,"  he  added  authoritatively, 
"  arrest  that  foreigner." 

"Diavolo!  Who  are  you?"  demanded  the 
Italian  angrily. 

'  You  will  know  in  due  course,"  replied 
Fetherston.  Then,  turning  to  the  crowd,  he 
added:  "  Gentlemen,  I  came  here  with  Ser- 
geant Deacon  to  search  this  house.  He  will  tell 
you  whether  that  statement  is  true  or  not." 

"  Quite,"  declared  the  breezy  sergeant,  who 
already  had  the  Italian  by  the  collar  and  coat- 
sleeve.  "  It  was  I  who  fired — to  frighten  him 
off!" 


The  Secret  of  the  Lonely  House  289 

At  this  the  crowd  laughed.  They  had  no 
liking  for  foreigners  of  any  sort  after  the  war, 
and  were  really  secretly  pleased  to  see  that  the 
sergeant  had  "  taken  him  up." 

But  what  for?  they  asked  themselves.  Why 
had  the  police  searched  The  Yews?  Mr.  Bailey 
was  a  quiet,  inoffensive  man,  very  free  with  his 
money  to  everybody  around. 

"  Jack  Beard,"  cried  Deacon  to  a  man  in  the 
crowd,  "  just  go  down  to  Asheldham  and  tele- 
phone to  Superintendent  Warden  at  Maldon. 
Ask  him  to  send  me  over  three  men  at  once,  will 

you?" 

"All  right,  Sam,"  was  the  prompt  reply, 
and  the  man  went  off,  while  the  sergeant  took 
the  resentful  Italian  into  the  house  to  await  an 
escort. 

Deacon  called  the  assistance  of  two  men  and 
invited  them  in.  Then,  while  they  mounted 
guard  over  the  prisoner,  Fetherston  addressed 
the  little  knot  of  amazed  men  who  had  been 
alarmed  by  the  Italian's  statement. 

"  Listen,  gentlemen,"  he  said.  '  We  shall  in 
a  couple  of  hours'  time  expect  the  return  of  Mr. 
Bailey,  the  tenant  of  this  house.  There  is  a 
very  serious  charge  against  him.  I  therefore 
put  everyone  of  you  upon  your  honour  to  say 
no  word  of  what  has  occurred  here  to-night — not 


290          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

until  Mr.  Bailey  arrives.  I  should  prefer  you 
all  to  remain  here  and  wait ;  otherwise,  if  a  word 
be  dropped  at  Southminster,  he  may  turn  back 
and  fly  from  justice." 

'  What's  the  charge,  sir? "  asked  one  man, 
a  bearded  old  labourer. 

"  A  very  serious  one,"  was  Walter's  evasive 
reply. 

Then,  after  a  pause,  they  all  agreed  to  wait 
and  witness  the  dramatic  arrest  of  the  man  who 
was  charged  with  some  mysterious  offence. 
Speculation  was  rife  as  to  what  it  would  be,  and 
almost  every  crime  in  the  calendar  was  cited  as 
likely. 

Meanwhile  Fetherston,  returning  to  the 
barely-furnished  sitting-room,  interrogated  Pie- 
tro  in  Italian,  but  only  obtained  sullen  answers. 
A  loaded  revolver  had  been  found  upon  him  by 
Deacon,  and  promptly  confiscated. 

"  I  have  already  searched  the  place,"  Walter 
said  to  the  prisoner,  "  and  I  know  what  it  con- 
tains." 

But  in  response  the  man  who  had  posed  as 
servant,  but  who,  with  his  "  master,"  was  the 
custodian  of  the  place,  only  grinned  and  gave 
vent  to  muttered  imprecations  in  Italian. 

Fetherston  afterwards  left  the  small  assem- 
bly and  made  examination  of  some  bedrooms  he 


The  Secret  of  the  Lonely  House  291 

had  not  yet  inspected.  In  three  of  these,  the 
locks  of  which  he  broke  open,  he  discovered 
quantities  of  interesting  papers,  together  with 
pnother  mysterious-looking  press. 

While  trying  to  decide  what  it  all  meant  he 
suddenly  heard  a  great  shouting  and  commo- 
tion outside,  and  ran  down  to  the  door  to  ascer- 
tain its  cause. 

As  he  opened  it  he  saw  that  in  the  darkness 
the  crowd  outside  had  grown  excited. 

4  'Ere  you  are,  sir,"  cried  one  man,  ascend- 
ing the  steps.  '  'Ere  are  two  visitors.  We 
found  'em  comin'  up  the  road,  and,  seein'  us, 
they  tried  to  get  away !  " 

Walter  held  up  a  hurricane  lantern  which 
he  had  found  and  lit,  when  its  dim,  uncertain 
light  fell  upon  the  two  prisoners  in  the  crowd. 

Behind  stood  Summers,  while  before  him,  to 
Fetherston's  utter  amazement,  showed  Enid 
Orlebar,  pale  and  terrified,  and  the  grey,  sinister 
face  of  Doctor  Weirmarsh. 


CONTAINS   SOME   STAETLING  STATEMENTS 

ENID,  recognising  Walter,  shrank  back  instantly 
in  fear  and  shame,  while  Weirmarsh  started  at 
that  unexpected  meeting  with  the  man  whom  he 
knew  to  be  his  bitterest  and  most  formidable 
opponent. 

•The  small  crowd  of  excited  onlookers,  ign 
norant  of  the  true  facts,  but  their  curiosity 
aroused  by  the  unusual  circumstances,  had  pre- 
vented the  pair  from  turning  back  and  making 
a  hurried  escape. 

"  Enid! "  exclaimed  Fetherston,  as  the  girl 
reluctantly  crossed  the  threshold  with  downcast 
head,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Why  are 
you  paying  a  visit  to  this  house  at  such  an 
hour?  " 

"  Ah,  Walter,"  she  cried,  her  small,  gloved 
hands  clenched  with  a  sudden  outburst  of  emo- 
tion, "  be  patient  and  hear  me !  I  will  tell  you 
everything — everything! " 

*  You  won't,"  growled  the  doctor  sharply. 
"  If  you  do,  by  Gad!  it  will  be  the  worse  for  you! 

292 


Some  Startling  Statements        293 

So  you'd  best  keep  a  silent  tongue — otherwise 
you  know  the  consequences.  I  shall  now  tell  the 
truth — and  you  won't  like  that! " 

She  drew  back  in  terror  of  the  man  who  held 
such  an  extraordinary  influence  over  her.  She 
had  grasped  Fetherston's  hand  convulsively, 
but  at  Weirmarsh's  threat  she  had  released  her 
hold  and  was  standing  in  the  hall,  pale,  rigid  and 
staring. 

"  Summers,"  exclaimed  Fetherston,  turning 
to  his  companion,  "  you  know  this  person,  eh? " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  should  rather  think  I  do,"  re- 
plied the  man,  with  a  grin. 

"  Well,  detain  him  for  the  present,  and  take 
your  instructions  from  London." 

"  You  have  no  power  or  right  to  detain  me," 
declared  the  grey-faced  doctor  in  quick  defiance. 
'  You  are  not  a  police  officer !  " 

"  No,  but  this  is  a  police  officer,"  Fetherston 
replied,  indicating  Summers,  and  adding:  "  Ser- 
geant, I  give  that  man  into  custody." 

The  sergeant  advanced  and  laid  his  big  hand 
upon  the  doctor's  shoulder,  telling  him  to  con- 
sider himself  under  arrest. 

"But  this  is  abominable — outrageous!" 
Weirmarsh  cried,  shaking  him  off.  "  I've  com- 
mitted no  offence." 

"  That  is  a  matter  for  later  consideration," 


294          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

calmly  replied  the  man  who  had  devoted  so 
much  of  his  time  and  money  to  the  investiga- 
tion of  mysteries  of  crime. 

In  one  of  the  bare  bedrooms  upstairs  Fether- 
ston  had,  in  examining  one  of  the  well  made 
hand-presses  set  up  there,  found  beside  it  a  num- 
ber of  one-pound  Treasury  notes.  In  curiosity 
he  took  one  up,  and  found  it  to  be  in  an  unfin- 
ished state.  It  was  printed  in  green,  without  the 
brown  colouring.  Yet  it  was  perfect  as  regards 
the  paper  and  printing — even  to  its  black  serial 
number. 

Next  second  the  truth  flashed  upon  him. 
The  whole  apparatus,  presses  and  everything, 
had  been  set  up  there  to  print  the  war  paper 
currency  of  Great  Britain! 

In  the  room  adjoining  he  had  seen  bundles 
of  slips  of  similar  paper,  all  neatly  packed  in 
elastic  bands,  and  waiting  the  final  process  of 
colouring  and  toning.  One  bundle  had  only  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  printed;  the  other  side 
was  blank.  He  saw  in  a  flash  that  the  placing 
in  circulation  of  such  a  huge  quantity  of  Treas- 
ury notes,  amounting  to  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  pounds,  must  seriously  damage  the  credit  of 
the  nation. 

For  a  few  seconds  he  held  an  unfinished  note 
in  his  hand  examining  it,  and  deciding  that  the 


Some  Startling  Statements        295 

imitation  was  most  perfect.  It  deceived  him 
and  would  undoubtedly  deceive  any  bank-teller. 

In  those  rooms  it  was  plain  that  various 
processes  had  been  conducted,  from  the  manipu- 
lation of  the  watermark,  by  a  remarkably  in- 
genious process,  right  down  to  the  finished  one- 
pound  note,  so  well  done  that  not  even  an  ex- 
pert could  detect  the  forgery.  There  were  many 
French  one-hundred-franc  notes  as  well. 

The  whole  situation  was  truly  astounding. 
Again  the  thought  hammered  home:  such  a 
quantity  of  paper  in  circulation  must  affect  the 
national  finances  of  Britain.  And  at  the  head 
of  the  band  who  were  printing  and  circulating 
those  spurious  notes  was  the  mysterious  medical 
man  who  carried  on  his  practice  in  Pimlico! 

The  scene  within  the  sparsely  furnished 
house  containing  those  telltale  presses  was  in- 
deed a  weird  one. 

Somebody  had  found  a  cheap  paraffin  lamp 
and  lit  it  in  the  sitting-room,  where  they  were 
all  assembled,  the  front  door  having  been  closed. 

It  was  apparent  that  Pietro  was  no  stranger 
to  the  doctor  and  his  fair  companion,  but  both 
men  were  highly  resentful  that  they  had  been 
so  entrapped. 

"  Doctor  Weirmarsh,"  exclaimed  Fetherston 
seriously,  as  he  stood  before  him,  "  I  have  just 


2g6          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

examined  this  house  and  have  ascertained  what 
it  contains." 

'  You've  told  him! "  cried  the  man,  turning 
fiercely  upon  Enid.  '  You  have  betrayed  me ! 
Ah!  It  will  be  the  worse  for  you — and  for  your 
family,"  he  added  harshly.  "  You  will  see !  I 
shall  now  reveal  the  truth  concerning  your  step- 
father, and  you  and  your  family  will  be  held  up 
to  opprobrium  throughout  the  whole  length  and 
breadth  of  your  land." 

Enid  did  not  reply.  She  was  pale  as  death, 
her  face  downcast,  her  lips  white  as  marble.  She 
knew,  alas!  that  Weirmarsh,  now  that  he  was 
cornered,  would  not  spare  her. 

There  was  a  pause — a  very  painful  pause. 

Everyone  next  instant  listened  to  a  noise 
which  sounded  outside.  As  it  grew  nearer  it 
grew  more  distinct — the  whir  of  an  approaching 
motor-car. 

It  pulled  up  suddenly  before  the  door,  and 
a  moment  later  the  old  bell  clanged  loudly 
through  the  half -empty  house. 

Fetherston  left  the  room,  and  going  to  the 
door,  threw  it  open,  when  yet  another  surprise 
awaited  him. 

Upon  the  steps  stood  four  men  in  thick  over- 
coats, all  of  whom  Walter  instantly  recognised. 

With  Trendall  stood   Sir  Hugh  Elcombe, 


Some  Startling  Statements        297 

while  their  companions  were  two  detective-in- 
spectors from  Scotland  Yard. 

"  Hallo !— Fetherston !  "  gasped  Trendall. 
"  I — I  expected  to  find  Weirmarsh  here !  What 
has  happened? " 

"  The  doctor  is  already  here,"  was  the  oth- 
er's quick  reply.  "  I  have  found  some  curious 
things  in  this  place!  Secret  printing-presses  for 
forged  notes." 

'  We  already  know  that,"  he  said.  "  Sir 
Hugh  Elcombe  here  has,  unknown  to  us,  ob- 
tained certain  knowledge,  and  to-day  he  came 
to  me  and  gave  me  a  full  statement  of  what  has 
been  in  progress.  What  he  has  told  me  this 
afternoon  is  among  the  most  valuable  and  reli- 
able information  that  we  ever  received." 

"  I  know  something  of  the  scoundrels,"  re- 
marked the  old  general,  "  because — well,  be- 
cause, as  I  have  confessed  to  Mr.  Trendall,  I 
yielded  to  temptation  long  ago  and  assisted 
them." 

"  Whatever  you  have  done,  Sir  Hugh,  you 
have  at  least  revealed  to  us  the  whole  plot.  Only 
by  pretending  to  render  assistance  to  these 
scoundrels  could  you  have  gained  the  intensely 
valuable  knowledge  which  you've  imparted  to 
me  to-day,"  replied  the  keen-faced  director  from 
Scotland  Yard. 


298          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

Fetherston  realised  instantly  that  the  fine  old 
fellow,  whom  he  had  always  held  in  such  esteem, 
was  making  every  effort  to  atone  for  his  con- 
duct in  the  past;  but  surely  that  was  not  the 
moment  to  refer  to  it — so  he  ushered  the  four 
men  into  the  ill-lit  dining-room  wherein  the  oth- 
ers were  standing,  none  knowing  how  next  to 
act. 

When  the  doctor  and  Sir  Hugh  faced  each 
other  there  was  a  painful  silence  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. 

To  Weirmarsh  Trendall  was  known  by 
sight,  therefore  the  criminal  saw  that  the  game 
was  up,  and  that  Sir  Hugh  had  risked  his  own 
reputation  in  betraying  him. 

'You  infernal  scoundrel!"  cried  the  doctor 
angrily.  '  You — to  whom  I  have  paid  so  many 
thousands  of  pounds — have  given  me  away!  But 
I'll  be  even  with  you!  " 

"Say  what  you  like,"  laughed  the  old  gen- 
eral in  defiance.  '  To  me  it  is  the  same  what- 
ever you  allege.  I  have  already  admitted  my 
slip  from  the  straight  path.  I  do  not  deny  re- 
ceiving money  from  your  hands,  nor  do  I  deny 
that,  in  a  certain  measure,  I  have  committed  se- 
rious offences — because,  having  taken  one  step, 
you  forced  me  on  to  others,  always  holding  over 
me  the  threat  of  exposure  and  ruin.  But,  for- 


Some  Startling  Statements        299 

tunately,  one  day,  in  desperation,  I  took  Enid 
yonder  into  my  confidence.  It  was  she  who  sug- 
gested that  I  might  serve  the  ends  of  justice, 
and  perhaps  atone  for  what  I  had  already  done, 
by  learning  your  secrets,  and,  when  the  time  was 
ripe,  revealing  all  the  interesting  details  to  our 
authorities.  Enid  became  your  friend  and  the 
friend  of  your  friends.  She  risked  everything 
— her  honour,  her  happiness,  her  future — by  as- 
sociating with  you  for  the  one  and  sole  purpose 
of  assisting  me  to  learn  all  the  dastardly  plot  in 
progress." 

"  It  was  you  who  supplied  Paul  Le  Pontois 
with  the  false  notes  he  passed  in  France ! "  de- 
clared Weirmarsh.  "  The  French  police  know 
that ;  and  if  ever  you  or  your  step-daughter  put 
foot  in  France  you  will  be  arrested." 

"  Evidently  you  are  unaware,  Doctor,  that 
my  son-in-law,  Paul  Le  Pontois,  was  released 
yesterday,"  laughed  Sir  Hugh  in  triumph. 
"  Your  treachery,  which  is  now  known  by  the 
Surete,  defeated  its  own  ends." 

"Further,"  remarked  Walter  Fetherston, 
turning  to  Enid,  "  it  was  this  man  here  "  —and 
he  indicated  the  grey-faced  doctor  of  Pimlico — 
"  this  man  who  denounced  you  and  Sir  Hugh  to 
the  French  authorities,  and  had  you  not  heeded 
my  warning  you  both  would  then  have  been  ar- 


300          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

rested.  He  had  evidently  suspected  the  object 
of  your  friendliness  with  me — that  you  both  in- 
tended to  reveal  the  truth — and  he  adopted  that 
course  in  order  to  secure  your  incarceration  in  a 
foreign  prison,  and  so  close  your  lips." 

"  I  knew  you  suspected  me  all  along,  Wal- 
ter," replied  the  girl,  standing  a  little  aside  and 
suddenly  clutching  his  hand.  "  But  you  will 
forgive  me  now — forgive  me,  won't  you?"  she 
implored,  looking  up  into  his  dark,  determined 
face. 

"  Of  course,"  he  replied,  "  I  have  already 
forgiven  you.  I  had  no  idea  of  the  true  reason 
of  your  association  with  this  man." 

And  he  raised  her  gloved  hand  and  carried 
it  gallantly  to  his  eager  lips. 

:<  Though  more  than  mere  suspicion  has  rest- 
ed upon  you,"  he  went  on,  "  you  and  your  step- 
father deserve  the  heartiest  thanks  of  the  nation 
for  risking  everything  in  order  to  be  in  a  posi- 
tion to  reveal  this  dastardly  financial  plot.  That 
man  there  " — and  he  indicated  the  doctor — "  de- 
serves all  he'll  get! " 

The  doctor  advanced  threateningly,  and, 
drawing  a  big  automatic  revolver  from  his  pock- 
et, would  have  fired  at  the  man  who  had  spoken 
his  mind  so  freely  had  not  Deacon,  quick  as 


Some  Startling  Statements        301 

lightning,  sprung  forward  and  wrenched  the 
weapon  so  that  the  bullet  went  upward. 

White  with  anger  and  chagrin,  the  doctor 
stood  roundly  abusing  the  man  who  had  investi- 
gated that  lonely  house. 

But  Fetherston  laughed,  which  only  irritated 
him  the  more.  He  raved  like  a  caged  lion,  un- 
til the  veins  in  his  brow  stood  out  in  great  knots ; 
but,  finding  all  protests  and  allegations  useless, 
he  at  last  became  quiet  again,  and  apparently  be- 
gan to  review  the  situation  from  a  purely  philo- 
sophical standpoint,  until,  some  ten  minutes 
later,  another  motor-car  dashed  up  and  in  it  were 
an  inspector  and  four  plain-clothes  constables, 
who  had  been  sent  over  from  Maldon  in  response 
to  Deacon's  message  for  assistance. 

When  they  entered  Pietro  became  voluble, 
but  the  narrow-eyed  doctor  of  Pimlico  remained 
sullen  and  silent,  biting  his  lips.  He  saw  that  he 
had  been  entrapped  by  the  very  man  whom  he 
had  believed  to  be  as  clay  in  his  hands. 

The  scene  was  surely  exciting  as  well  as  im- 
pressive. The  half -furnished,  ill-lit  dining-room 
was  full  of  excited  men,  all  talking  at  once. 

Unnoticed,  Walter  drew  Enid  into  the  shad- 
ow, and  in  a  few  brief,  passionate  words  reas- 
sured her  of  his  great  affection. 

"Ah!"  she  cried,  bursting  into  hot  tears, 


302         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  your  words,  Walter,  have  lifted  a  great  load  of 
sorrow  and  apprehension  from  my  mind,  for  I 
feared  that  when  you  knew  the  truth  you  would 
never,  never  forgive." 

"  But  I  have  forgiven,"  he  whispered,  press- 
ing her  hand. 

"  Then  wait  until  we  are  alone,  and  I  will 
tell  you  everything.  Ah !  you  do  not  know,  Wal- 
ter, what  I  have  suffered — what  a  terrible  strain 
I  have  sustained  in  these  days  of  terror! " 

But  scarcely  had  she  uttered  those  words 
when  the  door  reopened  and  a  man  was  ushered 
in  by  Deacon,  who  had  gone  out  in  response  to 
the  violent  ringing  of  the  bell. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Bailey,  tenant  of  the  house, 
gentlemen,"  said  the  sergeant,  introducing  him 
with  mock  politeness. 

Fetherston  glanced  up,  and  to  his  surprise 
saw  standing  in  the  doorway  a  man  he  had 
known,  and  whose  movements  he  had  so  closely 
followed — the  man  who  had  gone  to  Monte  Car- 
lo for  instructions,  and  perhaps  payment — the 
man  who  had  passed  as  Monsieur  Granier! 


CHAPTER  XXX 

KEVEALS  A   WOMAN'S  LOVE 

GREAT  was  the  consternation  caused  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  sleepy  old-world  village 
of  Asheldham  when  it  became  known  that  the 
quiet,  mild-mannered  tenant  of  The  Yews  had 
been  arrested  by  the  Maldon  police. 

Of  what  transpired  within  those  grim  walls 
only  the  two  men  called  to  his  assistance  by  Ser- 
geant Deacon  knew,  and  to  them  both  the  in- 
spector from  Maldon,  as  well  as  Trendall,  ex- 
pressed a  fervent  hope  that  they  would  regard 
the  matter  as  strictly  confidential. 

"  You  see,  gentlemen,"  added  Trendall,  "  we 
are  not  desirous  that  the  public  should  know  of 
our  discovery.  We  wish  to  avoid  creating  un- 
due alarm,  and  at  the  same  time  to  conceal  the 
very  existence  of  our  system  of  surveillance 
upon  those  suspected.  Therefore,  I  trust  that 
all  of  you  present  will  assist  my  department  by 
preserving  silence  as  to  what  has  occurred  here 
this  evening." 

His  hearers  agreed  willingly,  and  through 

303 


304         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

the  next  hour  the  place  was  thoroughly  searched, 
the  bundles  of  spurious  notes — the  finished  ones 
representing  nearly  one  hundred  thousand 
pounds  ready  to  put  into  circulation — being 
seized. 

One  of  the  machines  they  found  was  for 
printing  in  the  serial  numbers  in  black,  a  process 
which,  with  genuine  notes,  is  done  by  hand. 
Truly,  the  gang  had  brought  the  art  of  forgery 
to  perfection. 

"  Well,"  said  Trendall  when  they  had  fin- 
ished, "  this  work  of  yours,  Sir  Hugh,  certainly 
deserves  the  highest  commendation.  You  have 
accomplished  what  we,  with  all  our  great  organi- 
sation, utterly  failed  to  do." 

"  I  have  to-day  tried  to  atone  for  my  past  of- 
fences," was  the  stern  old  man's  hoarse  reply. 

"  And  you  have  succeeded,  Sir  Hugh,"  de- 
clared Trendall.  "Indeed  you  have!" 

Shortly,  afterwards  the  excitement  among 
the  crowd  waiting  outside  in  the  light  of  the 
head-lamps  of  the  motor-cars  was  increased  by 
the  appearance  of  the  doctor,  escorted  by 
two  Maldon  police  officers  in  plain  clothes. 
They  mounted  a  police  car,  and  were  driven 
away  down  the  road,  while  into  a  second  car  the 
tenant  of  The  Yews  and  his  Italian  manservant 
were  placed  under  escort,  and  also  driven  away. 


Reveals  a  Woman's  Love        305 

The  station-fly,  in  which  Bailey  had  driven 
from  Southminster,  conveyed  away  Fetherston, 
Trendall,  Sir  Hugh,  and  Enid,  while  Deacon, 
with  two  men,  was  left  in  charge  of  the  house 
of  secrets. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
Walter  Fetherston  stood  alone  with  Enid  in  the 
pretty  drawing-room  in  Hill  Street. 

They  stood  together  upon  the  vieux  rose 
hearthrug,  his  hand  was  upon  her  shoulder,  his 
deep,  earnest  gaze  fixed  upon  hers.  In  her 
splendid  eyes  the  love  light  showed.  They  had 
both  admired  each  other  intensely  from  their 
first  meeting,  and  had  become  very  good  and 
staunch  friends.  Walter  Fetherston  had  only 
once  spoken  of  the  passion  that  had  constantly 
consumed  his  heart — when  they  were  by  the  blue 
sea  at  Biarritz.  He  loved  her — loved  her  with 
the  whole  strength  of  his  being — and  yet,  ah!  try 
how  he  would,  he  could  never  put  aside  the  dark 
cloud  of  suspicion  which,  as  the  days  went  by, 
became  more  and  more  impenetrable. 

Sweet-faced,  frank,  and  open,  she  stood,  the 
ideal  of  the  English  outdoor  girl,  merry,  quick- 
witted, and  athletic.  And  yet,  after  the  stress 
of  war,  she  had  sacrificed  all  that  she  held  most 
dear  in  order  to  become  the  friend  of  Weir- 
marsh.  Why? 


306          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

"  Enid,"  he  said  at  last,  his  tender  hand  still 
upon  her  shoulder,  "  why  did  you  not  tell  me 
your  true  position?  You  were  working  in  the 
same  direction,  with  the  same  strong  motive  of 
patriotism,  as  myself!" 

She  was  silent,  very  pale,  and  very  serious. 

"  I  feared  to  tell  you,  Walter,"  she  faltered. 
"  How  could  I  possibly  reveal  to  you  the  truth 
when  I  knew  you  were  aware  how  my  stepfather 
had  unconsciously  betrayed  his  friends?  You 
judged  us  both  as  undesirables,  therefore  any 
attempt  at  explanation  would,  I  know,  only  ag- 
gravate our  offence  in  your  eyes.  Ah!  you  do 
not  know  how  intensely  I  have  suffered!  How 
bitter  it  all  was !  I  knew  the  reason  you  followed 
us  to  France — to  watch  and  confirm  your  sus- 
picions." 

"  I  admit,  Enid,  that  I  suspected  you  of  be- 
ing in  the  hands  of  a  set  of  scoundrels,"  her  lover 
said  in  a  low,  hoarse  voice.  "  At  first  I  hesitated 
whether  to  warn  you  of  your  peril  after  Weir- 
marsh  had,  with  such  dastardly  cunning,  be- 
trayed you  to  the  French  police,  but — well,"  he 
added  as  he  looked  again  into  her  dear  eyes  long 
and  earnestly,  "  I  loved  you,  Enid,"  he  blurted 
forth.  "  I  told  you  so !  Remember,  dear,  what 
you  said  at  Biarritz?  And  I  love  you — and  be- 
cause of  that  I  resolved  to  save  you  1 " 


Reveals  a  Woman's  Love        307 

;<  Which  you  did,"  she  said  in  a  strained,  me- 
chanical tone.  "  We  both  have  you  to  thank  for 
our  escape.  Weirmarsh,  having  first  implicated 
Paul,  then  made  allegations  against  us,  in  order 
to  send  us  to  prison,  because  he  feared  lest  my 
stepfather  might,  in  a  fit  of  remorse,  act  indis- 
creetly and  make  a  confession." 

'  The  past  will  all  be  forgiven  now  that  Sir 
Hugh  has  been  able  to  expose  and  unmask 
Weirmarsh  and  his  band,"  Walter  assured  her. 
"  A  great  sensation  may  possibly  result,  but  it 
will,  in  any  case,  show  that  even  though  an  Eng- 
lishman may  be  bought,  he  can  still  remain  hon- 
est. And,"  he  added,  "  it  will  also  show  them 
that  there  is  at  least  one  brave  woman  in  Eng- 
land who  sacrificed  her  love — for  I  know  well, 
Enid,  that  you  fully  reciprocate  the  great  affec- 
tion I  feel  towards  you — in  order  to  bear  her 
noble  part  in  combating  a  wily  and  unscrupu- 
lous gang." 

"  It  was  surely  my  duty,"  replied  the  girl 
simply,  her  eyes  downcast  in  modesty.  '  Yet 
association  with  that  dastardly  blackguard,  Dr. 
Weirmarsh,  was  horrible!  How  I  refrained 
from  turning  upon  him  through  all  those  months 
I  cannot  really  tell.  I  detested  him  from  the 
first  moment  Sir  Hugh  invited  him  to  our  table; 
and  though  I  went  to  assist  him  under  guise  of 


"3°8          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

consultations,  I  acted  with  one  object  all  along," 
she  declared,  her  eyes  raised  to  his  and  flashing, 
"  to  expose  him  in  his  true  guise — that  of  Josef 
Blot,  the  head  of  the  most  dangerous  association 
of  forgers,  of  international  thieves  and  black- 
mailers known  to  the  police  for  the  past  half  a 
century." 

;'  Which  you  have  surely  done !  You  have 
revealed  the  whole  plot,  and  confounded  those 
who  were  so  cleverly  conspiring  to  effect  a  sud- 
den and  most  gigantic  coup.  But "  and  he 

paused,  still  looking  into  her  eyes  through  his 
pince-nez,  and  sighed. 

"  But  what?  "  she  asked,  in  some  surprise  at 
his  sudden  change  of  manner. 

'  There  is  one  matter,  Enid,  which  " — and 
he  paused — "  well,  which  is  still  a  mystery  to  me, 
and  I — I  want  you  to  explain  it,"  he  said  in  slow 
deliberation. 

"  What  is  that? "  she  asked,  looking  at  him 
quickly. 

'  The  mystery  which  you  have  always  re- 
fused to  assist  me  in  unravelling — the  mystery 
of  the  death  of  Harry  Bellairs,"  was  his  quiet 
reply.  "You  held  him  in  high  esteem;  you 
loved  him,"  he  added  in  a  voice  scarce  above  a 
whisper. 

She  drew  back,  her  countenance  suddenly 


Reveals  a  Woman's  Love        3Q9 

blanched  as  she  put  her  hand  quickly  to  her  brow 
and  reeled  slightly  as  though  she  had  been  dealt 
a  blow. 

Walter  watched  her  in  blank  wonderment. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

IN   WHICH   SIB   HUGH  TELLS   HIS  STOEY 

'You  know  the  truth,  don't  you,  dearest?" 
Walter  asked  at  last  in  that  quiet,  sympathetic 
tone  which  he  always  adopted  towards  her  whom 
he  loved  so  well. 

Enid  nodded  in  the  affirmative,  her  face  hard 
and  drawn. 

"  He  was  killed,  was  he  not — deliberately 
murdered?" 

For  a  few  seconds  the  silence  was  unbroken 
save  for  a  whir  of  a  taxicab  passing  outside. 

'  Yes,"    was    her    somewhat    reluctant   re- 
sponse. 

'  You  went  to  his  rooms  that  afternoon," 
Walter  asserted  point  blank. 

"  I  do  not  deny  that.  I  followed  him  home 
— to — to  save  him." 

There  was  a  break  in  her  voice  as  she  stam- 
mered out  the  last  words,  and  tears  rushed  into 
her  dark  eyes. 

"  From  what?    From  death? " 

"  No,  from  falling  a  prey  to  a  great  tempta- 
tion set  before  him." 

31Q 


Sir  Hugh  Tells  His  Story       311 

"  By  whom? " 

"  By  the  doctor,  to  whom  my  stepfather  had 
introduced  him,"  was  the  girl's  reply.  "  I  dis- 
covered by  mere  chance  that  the  doctor,  who  had 
somewhat  got  him  into  his  clutches,  had  ap- 
proached him  in  order  to  induce  him  to  allow 
him  to  take  a  wax  impression  of  a  certain  safe 
key  belonging  to  a  friend  of  his  named  Thurs- 
ton,  a  diamond  broker  in  Hatton  Garden.  He 
had  offered  him  a  very  substantial  sum  to  do 
this — a  sum  which  would  have  enabled  him  to 
clear  off  all  his  debts  and  start  afresh.  Harry's 
younger  brother  Bob  had  got  into  a  mess,  and 
in  helping  him  out  Harry  had  sadly  entangled 
himself  and  was  practically  face  to  face  with 
bankruptcy.  I  knew  this,  and  I  knew  what  a 
great  temptation  had  been  placed  before  him. 
Fearing  lest,  in  a  moment  of  despair,  he  might 
accept,  I  went,  by  appointment,  to  his  chambers 
as  soon  as  I  arrived  in  London.  Barker,  his 
man,  had  been  sent  out,  and  ^e  were  alone.  I 
found  him  in  desperation,  yet  to  my  great  de- 
light he  had  defied  Weirmarsh,  saying  he  re- 
fused to  betray  his  friend." 

"  And  what  did  Bellairs  tell  you  further? " 

"  He  expressed  suspicion  that  my  stepfather 
was  in  the  doctor's  pay,"  she  replied.  ;'  I  tried 
to  convince  him  to  the  contrary,  but  Weir- 


312         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

marsh's  suggestion  had  evidently  furnished  the 
key  to  some  suspicious  document  which  he  had 
one  day  found  on  Sir  Hugh's  writing-table." 

"Well?" 

'  Well,"  she  went  on  slowly,  "  we  quarrelled. 
I  was  indignant  that  he  should  suspect  my  step- 
father, and  he  was  full  of  vengeance  against  Sir 
Hugh's  friend  the  doctor.  Presently  I  left,  and 
— >and  I  never  saw  him  again  alive !  " 

"What  happened?" 

'  What  happened  is  explained  by  this  let- 
ter," she  replied,  crossing  to  a  little  buhl  bureau 
which  she  unlocked,  taking  out  a  sealed  enve- 
lope. On  breaking  it  open  and  handing  it  to  him 
she  said :  "  This  is  the  letter  he  wrote  to  me  with 
his  dying  hand.  I  have  kept  it  a  secret — a  secret 
even  from  Sir  Hugh." 

Walter  read  the  uneven  lines  eagerty.  They 
grew  more  shaky  and  more  illegible  towards  the 
end,  but  they  were  sufficient  to  make  the  truth 
absolutely  clear. 

"  To-night,  half  an  hour  ago,"  (wrote  the 
dying  man)  "  I  had  a  visit  from  your  friend, 
Weirmarsh.  We  were  alone,  with  none  to  over- 
hear, so  I  told  him  plainly  that  I  intended  to 
expose  him.  At  first  he  became  defiant,  but 
presently  he  grew  apprehensive,  and  on  taking 
his  leave  he  made  a  foul  accusation  against  you. 


Sir  Hugh  Tells  His  Story       313 

Then,  laughing  at  my  refusal  to  accept  his 
bribe,  the  scoundrel  took  my  hand  in  farewell. 
He  must  have  had  a  pin  stuck  in  his  glove,  for  I 
felt  a  slight  scratch  across  the  palm.  At  the 
moment  I  was  too  furious  to  pay  any  attention 
to  it,  but  ten  minutes  after  he  had  gone  I  began 
to  experience  a  strange  faintness.  I  feel  now 
fainter  .  .  .  and  fainter  ...  A  strange  feel- 
ing has  crept  over  me  ...  I  am  dying  .  .  . 
poisoned  ...  by  that  king  of  thieves! 

"  Come  to  me  quickly  ...  at  once  .  .  . 
Enid  .  .  .  and  tell  me  that  what  he  has  said 
against  you  ...  is  not  true.  It  ...  it  cannot 
be  true.  .  .  .  Don't  delay.  Come  quickly.  .  .  . 
Can't  write  more. — Harry." 

Walter  paused  for  a  second  after  reading 
through  that  dramatic  letter,  the  last  effort  of  a 
dying  man. 

"  And  that  scoundrel  Weirmarsh  killed  him 
because  he  feared  exposure,"  he  remarked  in  a 
low,  hard  voice.  "  Why  did  you  not  bring  this 
forward  at  the  inquest?  " 

"  For  several  reasons,"  replied  the  girl, 
feared  the  doctor's  reprisals.     Besides,  he  might 
easily  have  denied  the  allegation,  or  he  might 
have  used  the  same  means  to  close  my  lips  if  he 
had  suspected  that  I  had  learnt  the  truth." 

"  The  dead  man's  story  is  no  doubt  true,"  de- 


3H         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

clared  Fetherston.  "  He  used  some  deadly  poi- 
son— one  of  the  newly  discovered  ones  which 
leaves  no  trace — to  kill  his  victim  who,  in  all 
probability,  was  not  his  first.  Your  stepfather 
does  not  know,  of  course,  that  this  letter  exists?  " 

"  No.  I  have  kept  it  from  everyone.  I  said 
that  the  summons  I  received  from  him  I  had  de- 
stroyed." 

"  In  the  circumstances  I  will  ask  you,  Enid, 
to  allow  me  to  retain  it,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to 
show  it  to  Trendall." 

'  You  may  show  it  to  Mr.  Trendall,  but  I 
ask  you,  for  the  present,  to  make  no  further  use 
of  it,"  replied  the  girl. 

He  moved  a  step  closer  to  her  and  caught  her 
disengaged  hand  in  his,  the  glad  light  in  her  eyes 
telling  him  that  his  action  was  one  which  she 
reciprocated,  yet  some  sense  of  her  unworthiness 
of  this  great  love  causing  her  to  hesitate. 

"  I  will  promise,"  said  the  strong,  manly  fel- 
low in  a  low  tone.  "  I  ought  to  have  made  al- 
lowances, but,  in  the  horror  of  my  suspicion,  I 
did  not,  and  I'm  sorry.  I  love  you,  Enid — I  had 
never  really  loved  until  I  met  you,  until  I  held 
your  hand  in  mine !  " 

Enid's  true,  overburdened  heart  was  only  too 
ready  to  respond  to  his  fervent  appeal.  She 
suffered  her  lover  to  draw  her  to  himself,  and 


Sir  Hugh  Tells  His  Story       315 

their  lips  met  in  a  long,  passionate  caress  that 
blotted  out  all  the  past.  He  spoke  quick,  rapid 
words  of  ardent  affection.  To  Enid,  after  all 
the  hideous  events  she  had  passed  through,  it 
seemed  too  happy  to  be  true  that  so  much  bliss 
was  in  store  for  her,  and  she  remained  there, 
with  Walter's  arm  around  her,  silently  content, 
that  fervid  kiss  being  the  first  he  had  ever  im- 
printed upon  her  full  red  lips. 

Thus  they  remained  in  each  other's  arms, 
their  two  true  hearts  beating  in  unison,  their 
kisses  mingling,  their  twin  souls  united  in  the 
first  moments  of  their  newly-found  ecstasy  of 
perfect  love. 

The  fight  had  been  a  fierce  one,  but  their  true 
hearts  had  won,  and,  as  they  whispered  each  oth- 
er's fond  affection,  Enid  promised  to  be  the 
wife  of  the  honest,  fearless  man  of  whose  mag- 
nificent work  in  the  detection  of  crime  the  coun- 
try had  never  dreamed.  They  read  his  books 
and  were  enthralled  by  them,  but  little  did  they 
think  that  he  was  one  of  the  never-sleeping 
watch-dogs  upon  great  criminals,  or  that  the 
sweet-faced  girl,  who  was  now  his  affianced  wife, 
had  risked  her  life,  her  love,  her  honour,  in  order 
to  assist  him. 

Next  afternoon  Sir  Hugh  called  upon  Wal- 
ter at  his  dingy  chambers  in  Holies  Street,  and 


316          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

as  they  sat  together  the  old  general,  after  a  long 
and  somewhat  painful  silence,  exclaimed: 

"  I  know,  Fetherston,  that  you  must  be  mys- 
tified how,  in  my  position,  I  should  have  become 
implicated  in  the  doings  of  that  criminal  gang." 

*  Yes,  I  am,"  Walter  declared. 

'  Well,  briefly,  it  occurred  in  this  way,"  said 
the  old  officer.  "  While  I  was  a  colonel  in  India 
just  before  the  war  I  was  very  hard  pressed  for 
money  and  had  committed  a  fault — an  indiscre- 
tion for  which  I  might  easily  have  been  dismissed 
the  army.  On  being  recalled  to  London,  after 
war  had  been  declared,  I  was  approached  by  the 
fellow  Weirmarsh  who,  to  my  horror,  had,  by 
some  unaccountable  means,  obtained  knowledge 
of  my  indiscretion!  At  first  he  adopted  a  high 
moral  tone,  upbraiding  me  for  my  fault  and 
threatening  to  inform  against  me.  This  I 
begged  him  not  to  do.  For  a  fortnight  he  kept 
me  in  an  agony  of  despair,  when  one  day  he 
called  me  to  him  and  unfolded  to  me  a  scheme 
by  which  I  could  make  a  considerable  amount  of 
money;  indeed,  he  promised  to  pay  me  a  yearly 
sum  for  my  assistance." 

'  You  thought  him  toibe  a  doctor — and  noth- 
ing else?"  Walter  said. 

"  Exactly.  I  never  dreamed  until  quite  re- 
cently that  he  was  head  of  such  a  formidable 


Sir  Hugh  Tells  His  Story       317 

gang,  whose  operations  were  upon  so  extensive 
a  scale  as  to  endanger  our  national  credit,"  re- 
plied Sir  Hugh.  "  At  the  time  he  approached 
me  I  was  in  the  Pay  Department,  and  many 
thousands  of  pounds  in  Treasury  notes  were 
passing  through  my  safe  weekly.  His  sugges- 
tion was  that  I  should  exchange  the  notes  as  they 
came  to  me  from  the  Treasury  for  those  with 
which  he  would  supply  me,  and  which,  on  show- 
ing me  a  specimen,  I  failed  to  distinguish  from 
the  real.  I  hesitated;  I  was  hard  up.  To  sus- 
tain my  position  after  my  knighthood  money 
was  absolutely  necessary  to  me,  and  for  a  long 
time  I  had  been  unable  to  make  both  ends  meet. 
The  bait  he  dangled  before  me  was  sufficiently 
tempting,  and — and — well,  I  fell !  "  he  groaned, 
and  then  after  a  pause  he  went  on: 

'  Whence  Weirmarsh  obtained  the  packets 
of  notes  which  I  substituted  for  genuine  ones 
was,  of  course,  a  mystery,  but  once  having  taken 
the  false  step  it  was  not  my  business  to  inquire. 
Not  until  quite  recently  did  I  discover  his  real 
position  as  chief  of  a  gang  of  international 
crooks,  who  combined  forgery  with  blackmail 
and  theft  upon  a  colossal  scale.  That  he  intend- 
ed Bellairs  should  furnish  him  with  an  impres- 
sion of  the  safe  key  of  a  diamond  dealer  in  Hat- 
ton  Garden  is  now  plain.  Bellairs  defied  him 


The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

and  threatened  to  denounce  him  to  the  police. 
Therefore,  the  poor  fellow's  lips  were  quickly 
closed  by  the  scoundrel,  who  would  hesitate  at 
nothing  in  order  to  preserve  his  guilty  secrets." 

"  But  what  caused  you  to  break  from  him  at 
last?  "  inquired  Walter  eagerly. 

"  Just  before  the  armistice  he  and  his  friends 
had  conceived  a  gigantic  scheme  by  which 
Europe  and  the  United  States  were  to  be  flooded 
with  great  quantities  of  spurious  paper  cur- 
rency, and  though  it  would,  when  discovered — as 
it  must  have  been  sooner  or  later — have  injured 
the  national  credit,  would  bring  huge  fortunes 
to  him  and  his  friends.  He  was  pressing  me  to 
send  in  my  papers  and  go  to  America,  there  to 
act  as  their  agent  at  a  huge  remuneration.  They 
wanted  a  man  of  standing  who  should  be  above 
suspicion,  and  he  had  decided  to  use  me  as  his 
tool  to  engineer  the  gigantic  frauds." 

"And  you,  happily,  refused?" 
'  Yes.  I  resolved,  rather  than  act  further, 
to  relinquish  the  handsome  payments  he  made 
to  me  from  time  to  time.  For  that  reason  I  got 
transferred  from  the  Pay  Department,  so  that 
I  could  no  longer  be  of  much  use  to  him,  a  fact 
which  annoyed  him  greatly." 

"  And  he  threatened  you  ?  " 
'  Yes.     He  was  constantly  doing  so.     He 


Sir  Hugh  Tells  His  Story       319 

wanted  me  to  go  to  New  York.  Enid  helped 
me  and  gave  me  courage  to  defy  him — which  I 
did.  Then  he  conceived  a  dastardly  revenge  by 
anonymously  denouncing  Le  Pontois  as  a  for- 
ger, and  implicating  both  Enid  and  myself. 
He  contrived  that  some  money  I  brought  from 
England  should  be  exchanged  for  spurious 
notes,  and  these  Paul  unsuspiciously  gave  into 
the  Credit  Lyonnais.  Had  it  not  been  for  your 
timely  warning,  Fetherston,  we  should  both 
have  also  been  arrested  in  France  without  a 
doubt." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  was  watching, 
and  realised  your  peril,  though  I  confess  that 
my  position  was  one  of  extreme  difficulty.  I,  of 
course,  did  not  know  the  actual  truth,  and,  to 
be  frank,  I  suspected  both  Enid  and  yourself  of 
being  implicated  in  some  very  serious  crime." 

"  So  we  were,"  he  said  in  a  low,  hard  voice. 

"  True.  But  you  have  both  been  the  means 
of  revealing  to  the  Treasury  a  state  of  things 
of  which  they  never  dreamed,  and  by  turning 
King's  evidence  and  giving  the  names  and  ad- 
dresses of  members  of  the  gang  in  Brussels  and 
Paris,  all  of  whom  are  now  under  arrest,  you 
have  saved  the  country  from  considerable  peril. 
Had  the  plot  succeeded,  a  very  serious  state  of 
things  must  have  resulted,  for  the  whole  of  our 


320          The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

paper  currency  would  have  been  suspected.  For 
that  reason  the  authorities  have,  I  understand, 
now  that  they  have  arrested  the  gang  and  seized 
their  presses,  decided  to  hush  up  the  whole  mat- 
ter." 

*  You  know  this? "  asked  Sir  Hugh,  sudden- 
ly brightening. 

'  Yes,  Trendall  told  me  so  this  morning." 
"Ah!  Thank  Heaven  I"  he  gasped,  much 
relieved.  "  Then  I  can  again  face  the  world  a 
free  man.  God  knows  how  terribly  I  suffered 
through  all  those  years  of  the  war.  I  paid  for 
my  fault  very  dearly — I  assure  you,  Fether- 
ston." 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

CONCLUSION 

WHAT  remains  to  be  related  is  quickly  told, 
though  the  public  have,  until  now,  been  in  igno- 
rance of  the  truth. 

Out  of  evil  a  great  good  had  come.  At  noon 
on  the  following  day  Trendall  had  an  interview 
with  Josef  Blot,  alias  Weirmarsh,  in  his  cell  at 
Chelmsford,  whither  he  had  been  conveyed  by 
the  police.  What  happened  at  that  interview 
will  never  be  known.  It  is  safe  to  surmise,  how- 
ever, that  the  tragic  letter  of  Harry  Bellairs  was 
shown  to  him — Enid  having  withdrawn  her  re- 
quest that  no  use  should  be  made  of  it.  An  hour 
after  the  chief  of  the  Criminal  Investigation  De- 
partment had  left,  the  prisoner  was  found  lying 
stark  dead,  suffering  from  a  scratch  on  the  wrist, 
inflicted  with  a  short,  hollow  needle  which  he  had 
carried  concealed  behind  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 

Greatly  to  the  discomfiture  of  the  gang,  the 
man  Granier  and  his  servant  Pietro  were  extra- 
dited to  France  for  trial,  while  a  quantity  of 
jewellery,  works  of  art,  money  and  negotiable 
securities  of  all  sorts  were  unearthed  from  a  villa 
near  Fontainebleau  and  restored  to  their  owners. 

321 


322         The  Doctor  of  Pimlico 

A  fortnight  after  Weirmarsh's  death,  at  St. 
George's,  Hanover  Square,  Enid  Orlebar  be- 
came the  wife  of  Walter  Fetherston,  and  among 
the  guests  at  the  wedding  were  a  number  of 
strange  men  in  whose  position  or  profession  no- 
body pretended  to  be  interested.  Truth  to  tell, 
they  were  officials  of  various  grades  from  Scot- 
land Yard,  surely  the  most  welcome  among  the 
wedding  guests. 

Though  Walter  and  Enid  live  in  idyllic  hap- 
piness in  a  charming  old  ivy-grown  manor  house 
in  Sussex,  with  level  lawns  and  shady  rose  ar- 
bours, they  still  retain  that  old  cottage  at  Ids- 
worth,  where  a  plausible  excuse  has  been  given 
to  the  country  folk  for  "  Mr.  Maltwood  "  having 
been  compelled  to  change  his  name.  No  pair  in 
the  whole  of  England  are  happier  to-day. 

No  man  holds  his  wife  more  dear,  or  has  a 
more  loving  and  hopeful  companion.  Their  life 
is  one  of  perfect  and  abiding  peace  and  of  sweet 
content. 

Walter  Fetherston  is  not  by  any  means  idle, 
for  in  his  quiet  country  home  he  still  writes  those 
marvellous  mystery  stories  which  hold  the  world 
breathlessly  enthralled,  but  he  continues  to  de- 
vote half  his  time  to  combating  the  ingenuity 
of  the  greater  criminals  with  all  its  attendant  ex- 
citement and  adventure,  which  are  reflected  in 
his  popular  romances. 


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